The Long Game
by emospritelet
Summary: AU, no curse. Belle French's life in Storybrooke is comfortable and uncomplicated. However, when she meets the enigmatic Mr Gold and decides to make a deal with him, she doesn't foresee how her world will be turned upside down. A tale of friendship, mystery and timeless love. Mostly Rumbelle with other ships scattered throughout.
1. A Brief Encounter

**Author's Note:**

**Okay my lovelies, this is AU. Belle is a university lecturer seeking to get her doctorate. Gold wants something from her and is prepared to pay very well to get it (no not ****_that,_**** you filthy-minded little scamps! That comes later). I've upped Gold's arrogance to eleven, as it's one of the things I like most about him, but he still has the same insecurities that make him act like a knobhead on occasion. It starts off fairly innocuously, but there'll be murder and betrayal and even, perhaps, a little magic. I've followed Disney's BATB in that Belle's father isn't a florist, but an inventor (and that's as far as it goes on the Disney front, hence the rating). She also has a mother, for whom I've channelled some of Cora's traits. Poor Belle…**

**Mostly Rumbelle with a few other ships here and there.**

**Oh, and obviously I own nothing connected with Once Upon a Time. If I did, there would be far more Rumbelle happy-sexy times on the show, and I wouldn't have to write about them so much.**

* * *

It was a fundamental aspect of his character, that when he saw something beautiful, rare and precious, he yearned to possess it.

He watched her as she ran along the platform, a laptop case in one hand, a small turquoise suitcase on wheels dragged behind her by the other. She was a pale beauty, chestnut curls bouncing past her shoulders, her slim body clad in a fitted jacket in rust-coloured velvet over dark blue skinny jeans tucked into brown leather knee boots. She moved out of his line of sight and he heard her stumble into the carriage, cursing softly under her breath as she did so. He smiled. He listened as she stowed her case and watched as she staked her claim to the seat across the carriage and facing towards him. She shrugged off her jacket and stowed it in the rack above, revealing a navy silk blouse that clung delightfully to her soft curves. She threw herself down into the seat with a sigh and pulled her laptop from its bag, along with a sheaf of papers and three thick books. He continued to eye her as she flipped open the computer, biting her lip in concentration. She tapped out a password, eyes roaming over the screen, and he turned back to his paper. There would be time enough.

* * *

Belle had turned on her computer and was waiting for it to boot up when she felt, very strongly, that she was being watched. She flicked her eyes upwards and surveyed her fellow passengers. There was a man in a suit across the carriage from her reading _The Wall Street Journal_, a smartly-dressed young woman playing some sort of game on her phone, two middle-aged men chatting quietly over coffee, sheaves of papers spread out between them, and a portly older man with his head back against the seat, snoring softly. None seemed to be watching her, and Belle gave a mental shrug at her own paranoia. She opened up the document she had been working on and started riffling through the papers on the table in front of her, pausing every now and then to write a sentence or make a note. The train shuddered as it set off and Belle made a grab for her books, upsetting the pile of paperwork and watching in dismay as it scattered over the floor. She muttered under her breath and slammed the laptop shut as she sought to retrieve her research. She was pre-empted by the man in the suit opposite, who had ducked to gather up the papers almost as soon as they had fallen. Belle gave him a grateful smile, stammered her thanks and held out her hands, watching him leaf through her papers with long, slender fingers as he scanned the titles.

"Ancient manuscripts of Abyssinia, Mayan hieroglyphs and Norse runes," he spoke softly, with a slight burr in his voice. "Heavy going for so early in the morning."

"Yes, I really should have stocked up on coffee," she said with an uncertain smile. "I'm clumsy even when I've had a decent night's sleep."

He sat back down, deep brown eyes flicking over her. His hair was longer than normal, falling around his face, brown streaked with grey. She imagined his suit had been hand-made, as it appeared to fit him perfectly. He wore gold cufflinks and a large gold ring set with a pale stone on his right hand. The ring looked very old, and Belle eyed it curiously as she shuffled the papers into the correct order and took her seat.

"Not what I would be expecting to find in the possession of one so lovely," he said then, and she frowned.

"Would you be more comfortable if I were flicking through a trashy magazine and reapplying my lipstick?" she asked sweetly, and he chuckled.

"_Touché,_" he said, amused. "That sounded less patronising in my head."

"I can't imagine how," she countered, tartly, and he sat back in his seat, eyebrows quirking with interest. He was very slender, but there was something in the way he held himself that suggested wiry strength. She could not decide if he was handsome or not. His face was thin, but there was character to it, his eyes alight with intelligence and languid mischief. She blushed under his scrutiny.

"Teacher or student?" he asked then, and she smiled a little.

"Both, actually," she admitted, and he lifted his eyes to the heavens.

"Beautiful _and_ smart," he sighed, pressing a hand to his heart in a mock swoon. "And they say dreams don't come true."

Belle sniffed. "I don't want to completely rock your world, but I'm also a good cook," she remarked, and his grin widened.

"So, what is it you do?" he asked, and she smiled a little self-consciously.

"I'm due to start my doctorate this fall and I also teach part-time at the university to pay the bills."

"That must eat into your study time," he observed, and she shrugged.

"We don't all have a trust fund to fall back on."

His mouth twitched. "Indeed not."

There was a moment's silence then, and she opened up her laptop again.

"Do you teach at a university here in Boston?" he asked, and she smiled ruefully.

"Nothing so grand," she chuckled. "It's the Storybrooke campus of the University of Maine. You probably never heard of it."

"Storybrooke?" He gave her a strange, slanting grin. "I am acquainted with the town."

"I was surprised to find that the town was so small when I applied there," she admitted. "The population must increase ten-fold every time the semester starts. But it's very pleasant, and not too far away from my family. It was the curriculum that won me over, and now I find I don't want to leave."

"Do you still live with your parents?" he asked, and Belle shuddered with horror at the very idea.

"No, I got my own place with Dad's help when I started university. It was supposed to be my own little sanctuary, but I've ended up having to take in roommates to make ends meet. Not that I mind that; my friend Ruby is great fun and makes a mean…" She broke off, looking up at him. "Why am I telling you all this?" The question was more for herself than for him, but a slow smile spread across his face.

"Perhaps I encourage openness and verbosity." The smile could not prevent Belle seeing the glint in his eyes, but before she became uncomfortable, he changed the subject.

"How long are you staying in New York?" he asked. Suddenly wary, she gave him an appraising look.

"What makes you think I'm staying anywhere?" she asked, and he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the luggage rack. Now she _was_ uncomfortable. If he knew she had stowed luggage, he had watched her coming up the platform, and somehow she did not feel that his questions were the innocent conversation of a fellow traveller looking to pass the time. She turned back to her computer.

"I'm there for two days," she said, with an air of finality.

"And where are you staying?" _My God, was he ever going to let this _go?

"I'm sorry," she said sweetly. "But I don't feel comfortable divulging that information to a complete stranger."

He laughed softly. "Very sensible," he said approvingly. "So – business or pleasure?"

Belle looked up at him. "Excuse me?"

"Your trip," he said mildly. "Is it business or pleasure?"

"Why do you ask?" she demanded, blushing slightly, and he bit his lip in amusement. She picked up one of her books and hid behind it. "I'm not telling you anything more, for all I know you're a colossal pervert."

He winced. "Ouch! Very well, then I'll just have to guess."

Despite herself, Belle lowered the book. He was sitting forward, elbows on the table and fingers laced together. His eyes roamed over her face, and she met him stare for stare, raising her chin a little. He smiled slowly, amused by her defiance. She dropped her gaze and eyed the large gold ring on his right hand again, wondering how old it was.

"I'm guessing you're there for research purposes," he said eventually. "A small hotel, probably somewhere a little bohemian like the Village. You'll spend all day at the library or wherever it is you're going, then at night you'll head down Bleecker Street to a bar – jazz or possibly blues – and have a couple of beers before heading back…alone. Tomorrow, for breakfast, you'll have Eggs Benedict, then you'll repeat the whole performance." He sat back, a smug expression on his face. Belle closed her mouth with a snap.

"How did you do that?" she asked softly, almost without realising she had spoken aloud. He smirked.

"I'm merely observant, dearie, whereas you drift along with your nose in a book and your head in the clouds."

"Knowing what I like to fortify myself with before a day of studying isn't observant unless you've seen me do it," she remarked. "So it _does _make me wonder if you've been stalking me."

He chuckled. "And how would I accomplish that? Have we met before?"

Sudden inspiration struck her. "Do you know my father?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And he is?"

"Maurice French." She watched for his reaction, and he inclined his head, a spark of interest flitting over his face.

"The inventor? How interesting," he purred. He steepled his hands, tapping fingertips against his lips. "I've heard of him. We've never met, however."

"Do you live in Boston?" Belle felt that it was high time she asked _him_ some questions.

"Not any more." His brows twitched, and he was hiding his smile with difficulty.

She waited for him to offer the information she sought, and when he remained silent she prompted him. "So? Where do you live?"

"Do you have a sudden desire to stalk _me_?" he asked, amused, and she pulled a face.

"Hardly." She drew out the word, almost a sneer, which seemed to amuse him even further. He was enjoying the verbal fencing. She shifted her position slightly and looked him in the eye.

"My turn," she declared. "I'm guessing you're in New York for a business meeting and you will eat dinner at some swanky restaurant and will _also _be going back to your hotel alone." She smirked, but the smile didn't leave his face.

"Well, as we're both going to be alone this evening, perhaps we should try to remedy that." He leant forward again, fingers sliding against one another rhythmically, sensually. "Have dinner with me."

"No thank you," she said firmly. "I'm here to work, not to socialise. Particularly with someone who creeps me out. And with that, sir, I bid you good day." She picked up her book, averting her gaze, secretly amused at her lofty dismissal. She heard his soft chuckle, but refused to look up again, her eyes on her work. He turned back to his paper, but continued to watch her when she was distracted. She had a tendency to bite her lower lip when she was concentrating, or suck the end of her pen. He watched her deep pink lips pursed around the end of her biro or with her small white teeth digging into their softness, and the brief thought flitted through his head of what she might taste like if he were to press his own lips against hers. She raised her eyes to meet his every so often, deep pools of clear blue ringed with thick lashes, and he would smile and avert his gaze as she blushed prettily. Belle was a little unnerved by the encounter and by her reaction to his occasional glances. She nonetheless tried to concentrate on the task at hand, and by the time the train reached their destination she had managed to write several pages of what she hoped would turn out to be insightful comments on her research. Upon arrival at the station, she made sure that she exited the train well before the strange man, and kept looking over her shoulder as she walked briskly from the station and hailed a cab. He was not following. She checked into her hotel on 30th Street and threw herself down on the bed with a sigh, feeling drained. Within half an hour she had refreshed herself with a cup of coffee, and gave herself a mental shake before gathering her laptop and papers together and heading back down to the lobby.

"Miss!" called the concierge, and Belle turned with a smile. "A gentleman wanted to leave you a message."

Her heart plummeted and began thumping painfully somewhere in the region of her stomach. _How the hell…_ "What message?" she asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

"He wanted to know if you had time to see an old man for dinner." Relieved, Belle grinned widely at the familiar voice, and turned to throw her arms around the tall, slightly plump figure behind her.

"Dad!" She hugged him tight, breathing in his familiar scent of tobacco and cologne. "What are you doing here? How did you know?"

"I spoke to Ruby and she told me where you'd be," he said, squeezing her. "Do you know your phone's going to voicemail again? Anyway, I have a meeting with George, so I thought we could spend some time together."

George Spencer was her father's patent attorney. Belle found him to be a slimy, odious man who made her flesh creep, but he was, she had to admit, very good at his job. It was because of Spencer that her father's last four inventions had actually made them some money, although at the rate he and her mother spent it, she wasn't sure it made much difference to the family finances. She grinned up at her father.

"Shall we meet here at eight?" she asked happily. "I'll set an alarm on my phone so I don't miss it – you know what I'm like."

He chuckled and tapped her nose. "Eight on the dot."

* * *

"So, how's Mum?" asked Belle, when she and her father had ordered their food. They had decided to eat at a steakhouse; Belle knew of her father's carnivorous tendencies and, after a day of studying, was fairly ravenous herself. Maurice poured her a glass of wine.

"She's in the Keys," he offered. "A short break before the end of the summer."

Belle quietly thought _a break from what?_ She chose to eat a breadstick so she wouldn't be tempted to criticise her mother, which she supposed was a sure-fire way to get indigestion. She decided to change the subject.

"Did you get the go-ahead on your new design, Dad?" she asked enthusiastically. "Was George impressed?"

"We're still waiting on the searches," said Maurice modestly. "But it's looking promising. George said there are a number of government agencies that might be interested. He think it has 'international significance'." His fingers made air quotes around his words, and Belle grinned.

"One of these days you'll have to explain it to me," she said, taking a mouthful of wine. He waved a dismissive hand.

"Never mind that, how are things with you?" he asked. "Is the study here for your doctorate? I thought you didn't start until next month."

"I don't," admitted Belle. "But it never hurts to get a head start. Besides, once I get carried away with something, it's difficult to stop, you know me."

He chuckled. "And how are things in Storybrooke? How's Ruby?"

Belle grinned. Maurice had a soft spot for her roommate, mostly because Ruby baked him Granny's special recipe chocolate-chip cookies whenever he visited.

"She's fine," she allowed. "In dire need of a decent guy – she keeps dating morons."

"How's Gary?" he asked then, and Belle frowned slightly. Her boyfriend was a bit of a touchy subject. Her mother made no secret of the fact that she thought he wasn't good enough for Belle, and although her father had never said anything (and never would unless she asked), she suspected he felt the same. Gary was a personal trainer; they had met in university, but he now worked at a local gym and coached football at weekends. Belle saw him two nights a week, three if it was a special occasion. Despite the fact that they had been dating for three years, she felt no desire to increase the amount of time they spent together and wouldn't contemplate the notion of him moving in. She enjoyed her freedom and time with her friends, and besides, they were both too young to be settling down, she told herself. She helped herself to more wine.

"He's fine," she said nonchalantly. "Busy with football tryouts. I'm seeing him Saturday."

He nodded lightly, not pressing the issue, sensing her discomfort and slight pulling-away. He grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly.

"It's good to see you, darling," he said sincerely. Belle beamed.

* * *

She enjoyed the two days she spent in New York. Throwing herself into her work during the day, she managed to locate a number of previously unknown sources for her research, as well as finding some interesting works on ancient superstitions, and she considered the trip well spent. After dining with her father on the first night and kissing him goodbye, promising to visit in a few weeks, she spent the second night at _Terra Blues _in the Village. It was her favourite bar, and she spent the evening listening to live music and drinking bottles of Grolsch as she swayed in time to the beat. She had scowled to herself when she recalled the strange man's assured statement as to her preferred way to spend an evening in New York, but figured that as he wasn't likely to find out she might as well enjoy herself.

Belle downed the last of her beer, debating whether to buy another. Something, a slight prickle in the back of her skull, made her turn her head, and in the corner of the room she saw him, seated at a table of dark, polished wood. He was watching her with a slight smile on his face, and she turned away hurriedly, pushing her empty beer bottle round in anxious circles, leaving a trail of moisture on the table top. She could feel him watching her, his gaze burning into her from behind, and felt inexplicably drawn to him. Her heart thumped painfully, her breathing quickening. She tried to ignore the feeling, but her insides were squirming with something she couldn't put a name to, and after a couple of minutes she slid from her stool almost without thought. When she turned, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, his expression hungry. Belle walked over slowly, hips swaying, her gaze locked on his, his eyes gleaming with a dark light as he watched her approach. He held out his hand slowly, palm upwards, fingers curling out towards her invitingly. Belle's lips parted in surprise as she moved closer, almost as though she was having an out-of-body experience, almost as though she was not in control of herself. She found herself unable to pull her gaze from his. His eyes were almost black in the dim light, the tiniest flecks of gold sparking within them. Mesmerised, she watched herself place her hand in his, her fingers sliding across the warm, smooth skin of his palm as he curled his fingertips around her wrist and drew her towards him.

"I want you, Miss French," he whispered, his voice low and throaty. Belle shivered, her breathing suddenly heavy. She could feel the heat from him, could smell his scent as his spare hand reached out to slide around her waist, pulling her closer so that she was standing between his legs. She felt as though she was rooted to the spot, that she was trapped there by some strange force that was making her touch him, her hand sliding up his arm to his shoulder. He bent forwards, her eyes on his lips as they reached for hers, and it was then that a high-pitched ringing started.

Belle jerked awake, momentarily confused, wondering if a fire alarm was going off. She sat up hurriedly, looking around herself. She was in her hotel room, alone. No mysterious stranger, no noise other than the alarm clock alerting her to the fact that it was seven o'clock and time to get up. Belle sighed with relief and flicked the switch to turn off the alarm. She blushed slightly as she remembered her dream; it had been a while since she had had one so vivid, not to mention so…intimate. She had certainly never dreamed about Gary that way, and she felt suddenly guilty that her first almost-sex-dream was about a man whose name she didn't even know, rather than her steady boyfriend. It was all rather distracting, and she threw off the covers, determined to get in a couple more hours of study before catching the train home.

* * *

She kept a sharp eye out on the train, but the man she had met was nowhere to be seen. Belle supposed that she ought to feel relieved. He had certainly made her feel uncomfortable at times, and she recalled the way his eyes had seemed to bore into her and rake through her memories, as though he could read minds. She had half-expected to come across him while she was there, and when she hadn't she felt something which, if he hadn't been so irritating, she might have mistaken for disappointment. She sighed as the train pulled into Boston, and pulled her case behind her as she made her way to the bus station to get home to Storybrooke.

Belle arrived back at the small house she shared with Ruby as the time was approaching eight-thirty, and dragged her case tiredly into the hallway. Her roommate stuck her head around the kitchen door with a grin, long dark hair framing a pale, beautiful face.

"Belle! You're back! How did it go?"

"Good," nodded Belle, taking off her jacket. "But tiring. Have you opened the wine?"

"Do bears crap in the woods?" asked Emma dryly. The tall, blonde woman was leaning against the wall next to Ruby, holding a glass out towards Belle. Emma Swan was a police officer, but managed to swap shifts on a regular basis with Mei-Ling, a fellow cop, so that she could make Friday's girls' night with Belle, Ruby and Snow. The latter was hovering in the kitchen, a smile on her pretty, delicate face. Snow's full name was Snowflake, courtesy of her pagan parents to their daughter born in the depths of a New England winter, and her skin was pale enough that it suited her. The petite schoolteacher pulled out a chair so Belle could sink into it with a sigh.

"Where are we so far?" asked Belle, taking a slurp of wine. _Heaven._

"Somewhere between 'what animal would you be?' and 'if there's a gun to your head and you had to bang one of your colleagues, which would it be?'" said Ruby with a grin. Belle chuckled.

"_This_ was a planned topic of conversation?" she asked, amused. Ruby folded her arms.

"Well, it's easier for you than most of us," she complained. "You've got that fine piece of ass Graham wandering around. I have to put up with Granny's short-order cook." She mimed vomiting into her glass.

"All my colleagues are female," put in Snow. She took a drink. "And trust me, I'd take the gun over any of them."

Belle chuckled.

"How was New York?" asked Emma, and she shrugged.

"I saw Dad," she said. "Got loads of work done, listened to some blues, drank a few beers, and met a really infuriating man on the train."

"Do tell," said Snow, wiggling her eyebrows. Belle frowned.

"First of all I think he started out by insulting my intelligence," she began. "Then he creeped me out by guessing what I liked to have for breakfast and how I spent my evenings. He was incredibly arrogant." She took another drink and let her head roll back as she started to relax. Emma and Ruby looked at one another.

"And?" prompted Emma. Belle looked up in surprise.

"And what?"

"You wouldn't have mentioned him if it wasn't important," said Emma, the light of an unexplained mystery in her eyes. "Do you like this guy?"

"What? No!" Belle protested. Ruby gave her a flat look, and Belle blushed.

"No, it's not like that," she insisted. "Did I mention the part where he totally creeped me out? It's just – I can't stop thinking about him. It's like I think we didn't finish our argument properly, or something." She sighed, taking another drink. "Anyway, it's not like it matters. I'm unlikely ever to see him again."

The other three shared glances, and Belle decided to steer the topic of conversation away from her.

"So, Emma," she began. "Any more news on the guy front with you?"

"She boinked August," announced Snow, and Emma glared at her as Ruby and Belle squealed.

"Details!" demanded Ruby, and Emma rolled her eyes, the look she gave Snow promising retribution later.

"We went on another date, we had fun, I jumped him." She drained her glass with an air of finality.

"No, no, no, you needn't think you're getting away with that!" scoffed Ruby. "What was he like? Does he have a nice butt? Did he want to do anything weird?"

"And more importantly," put in Belle. "Are you going to see him again?"

Emma frowned thoughtfully. "Let's see, in order of being asked…Not bad, yes, no and probably not."

Ruby gave her a disgusted look. "Dammit, Swan, getting information out of you is like pulling teeth! Are the criminals you arrest this annoying?"

"They're usually too stupid to keep their mouths shut," remarked Emma, pouring herself more wine and offering the bottle to the others. "I'm not that dumb." She grinned at Belle. "No wonder Belle's keeping quiet about this mystery man – you guys wouldn't let her forget about it otherwise."

Belle scowled, and Ruby turned back to her with a grin.

"Come on, Belle, tell us about your new _love_," she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

Belle sighed and took another swallow of wine. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?" she asked, with a hint of defeat in her voice.

"No," they chorused, and she rolled her eyes, putting her glass down determinedly.

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Everything!" announced Ruby, as if it were obvious. "Height, weight, build, inside leg measurement, likes, dislikes, weird fetishes…anything you can think of!"

"I don't know all that!" Belle protested, and chewed her lip. "Let's see – he wasn't that tall. Thin, _very_ well dressed, I mean, _seriously _well dressed – he even wore cufflinks. On business of some sort, staying in New York. He said he'd heard of Storybrooke. We talked for a little while about what I did. He guessed that I liked blues and jazz…that's it. I don't even know his name."

Three faces looked at one another with expressions Belle couldn't quite interpret.

"There's something else," said Snow shrewdly, and Belle sighed.

"He asked me out to dinner. I said no," she added hastily, when they looked interested. "Like I said, I doubt I'll ever see him again."

"Pity," remarked Emma. "It'd be nice for you to get out of the rut you're in."

Belle frowned, but secretly agreed that her relationship with Gary, though pleasant enough, was not exactly the fireworks she had been hoping for. She was fond of him, certainly, but she wasn't sure that she loved him. After three years together, she thought this was a little sad.

* * *

**A/N: So, there was no sex in my last fic (everyone was far too busy saving Henry), but there will be in this one – eventually, it's a slow burn. Hope you enjoyed. I always appreciate feedback.**


	2. Feint and Parry

**A/N: OH! You guys! Loved the feedback. So glad you're enjoying this fic. Thanks to everyone who commented, followed and favourited. Special thanks to Emilie Brown for her awesome cover art.**

**Raeymaeker: more verbal fencing coming up!**

**Sandpiper: no update on Emma's love life in this chapter, but later, we'll see! Nothing's set in stone (or wood!)**

**Twyla Mercedes: Gold and Belle cross paths again in this chapter.**

**JustBFree: your wish is my command…**

**Coming up: Belle has to cancel a date in order to do Graham a favour, with interesting consequences**

* * *

Belle tapped out a sentence on her computer, read it over and frowned. She checked a fact in the heavy book open to the side of her, drumming her fingers on the desk. The new semester was due to start the following week, and she was trying to cram in as much research as she could before her time was filled with classes and lesson-preparation. Unhappy with her wording, she deleted what she had written and tried again.

"Knock, knock," came a voice from the doorway. Belle raised her head with a smile to see Graham Hunter leaning into the room. Graham was a few years older than her, very young to be head of the Faculty. There were rumours amongst some of the staff that he had only been given the post because of his less-than-secret relationship with Regina Mills, the Dean. Belle liked to think that Graham had got the job by not only being an expert in his chosen field of European History, but also by being willing to take on the heavy administrative burden that came with the role. Graham was sweet, funny, very handsome, and Belle wasn't remotely attracted to him. Ruby had remarked dryly that there was obviously something wrong with her.

"Graham," she said, pleased to see him. "What can I do for you?"

"The donors' evening on Thursday," he began, and Belle rolled her eyes. "Now, I saw that!" he said sternly, wagging a finger. "I know you all hate these things, but we're an educational establishment, and schmoozing is a necessary evil."

"Is any evil _really _necessary?" she asked wryly, and he grinned.

"Are we going to have a philosophical discussion?" he asked, amused. "It's the donors' evening, after all, not Nazi Germany."

"Runs a close second," grumbled Belle, and he shook his head, exasperated.

"I don't know why you lot treat this thing like a torture session," he sighed. "It's a free bar and you get to talk to interesting people about the research you love. What's not to like?"

"You said I didn't have to be there," Belle reminded him. "I've arranged to go on a date." Gary had said he'd come over to her place anyway, which was almost like a date.

"I'm afraid plans have changed," he said, a slight look of guilt on his face. "I need you to be there."

Belle sighed, giving him puppy-dog eyes and batting her lashes. "Why?" she whined, and he grinned at her act.

"I think, if you're there to charm at least one of the donors, we just might get the funds we need."

"I don't see what difference I can make," sighed Belle. "Jefferson's way better at flirting. Besides, at the last one I was stuck talking to this mad old woman for an hour and a half about her cats. She even had _pictures_."

Graham chuckled. "I know who you mean, and trust me, she won't be there."

"I heard she died," said Belle, musingly. "Perhaps she bored herself to death. Did the cats eat her?"

He gave her a level look, but his eyes twinkled. "I promise, no mad cat-lady. Swear to me you'll be there, Belle. I know it's a pain in the arse, but I need you to take one for the team."

Belle sighed again, and nodded reluctantly. "It's a good thing you're pretty," she grumbled, and he laughed aloud.

"Why d'you think I'm doing the rounds in person?" he asked. "Although I'm not sure it'll work on the men."

"Might work on Jefferson," she offered, with a grin. "I think he's fairly open when it comes to romantic encounters."

"Maybe you could persuade the others," he suggested, and she frowned at him.

"You've used up your favour quota for today, Hunter," she said dryly. "And there'd better be some decent nibbles at this thing, or you'll owe me."

He chuckled as he left the room to browbeat the remainder of the faculty members. Belle sighed, tapping her fingertips on the desk. _Great_. She wasn't looking forward to Thursday. She slipped her phone from her pocket and prepared herself for the accusations of not wanting to spend time together when she cancelled her date with Gary. To her surprise, he took the news well, stating that in that case he could fit in a personal training session, and would see her Saturday. So there really was no excuse not to go. Damn.

* * *

Belle fidgeted with her necklace, sighing as she tried to work out how it had gotten twisted between the house and the university.

"Here, let me, you'll break it." Ruby unclasped and refastened the necklace. She was serving on the bar that evening, and was dressed fairly demurely in a white blouse and black skirt, although admittedly the skirt was rather short and her heels were six inches high. "You look great," she told Belle. "I'm sure you'll charm any number of seedy old donors trying to get into your pants."

Belle stuck out her tongue. "I'm here under duress, like the rest of them," she growled, smoothing her dark green dress against her hips. "I don't know why Graham made such a big deal over me coming, it's not like anyone will notice one more post-grad teacher." She leant on the bar with a sigh. "I suppose I'd better go meet and greet."

"The sooner you've done the rounds, the sooner you can get out of here," agreed Ruby, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Belle, you came!" She turned and smiled as Archie Hopper, the psychology professor, appeared at her elbow, dressed in his usual tweed suit and colourful tie.

"Archie!" She kissed his cheek in greeting, making him blush slightly. "Thank God there's another sane person here!"

"Well, I can certainly vouch for your sanity," he said gravely. "My professional diagnosis. One hundred percent Not Crazy."

"We'll see whether that diagnosis changes by the end of the night," she chuckled.

"So, what can I get for you, handsome?" asked Ruby brightly, and Belle started.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Ruby, this is Professor Archie Hopper. He teaches psychology. Archie, this is my roommate, Ruby Lucas. Ruby's studying forensics."

"Hey Archie!" Ruby held out a slim hand to shake Archie's, a bemused look on his face. "You teach the elective on criminal profiling, right?"

"Uh – yes! Yes, I do."

Ruby grinned. "In that case, you'll be seeing a _lot _more of me next semester, Dr Hopper." She said it suggestively, leaning on the bar so that her cleavage was displayed to good advantage, and Archie blushed to the roots of his hair, looking somewhat terrified. Belle sighed inwardly.

"Well, I'd better go mingle," she said lightly. "I'll see you two later." She mouthed '_play nice'_ at Ruby, and walked towards the centre of the room, looking around at the small knots of chatting people and wondering who to introduce herself to. She felt a little lost in the sea of faces, and although she could see several of the lecturers that she knew well, each was deeply involved in a conversation with one or more of the invited guests. Belle scanned the room, biting her lip uncertainly and wishing that she'd gotten Ruby to pour her a drink so her hands had something to do.

"Well, well. And here I thought this evening was going to be a tedious waste of my time." A familiar voice, not heard since her train journey to New York, made Belle's stomach lurch, and she span to face him.

"What are _you _doing here?" she blurted, and his lips twitched in amusement.

"Are you checking invitations?" he asked mildly. Belle blushed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't…" she cut off, unsure of herself, and he smiled slightly.

"Don't concern yourself, dearie, I don't bite." And with that, he limped towards the bar, a gold-topped cane in his right hand, his slender figure clad in a dark pinstriped suit. He was not as tall as she had thought; in her killer heels she could almost look him in the eye. She wondered how he had injured his leg. She had not noticed his limp on the train, but he seemed to move quickly enough despite it.

"So, you've met the Beast, then." Jefferson's voice made her jump, and he handed her a glass of wine. "Here, you look like you could use it."

She smiled her thanks, tugging playfully at his paisley cravat. The senior lecturer in fashion design was dressed as flamboyantly as always; his suit was black velvet with a deep blue sheen to it, his shirt purple silk. He wasn't wearing a top hat, for a change, but he still looked as though he belonged in a smoke-filled club frequented by Victorian dandies and opium-eaters, rather than the university halls.

"The _Beast_?" she queried, and Jefferson grinned, gesturing towards the bar.

"Gold. He's a mega-donor. Graham loves him – well, his money anyway. I've never seen him at one of these things. First time for everything, I guess."

"I've met him before," she said slowly. "He was on the train from Boston to New York when I went the other week."

Jefferson looked interested. "How did you find him?"

"He was – polite," she said uncertainly. "But a little intense and creepy. What does he do?"

Jefferson shrugged. "Sits around counting his money and eating small children, I guess. He runs the pawn shop in town, lends money at exorbitant rates to desperate souls. He was based in Boston for a while, but he moved back here permanently a month or so ago. I can't believe you don't know who he is; everyone knows Gold."

Belle shrugged. She had her head buried in a book most of the time. She probably wouldn't have seen him if she'd fallen over him in the street. "Why do they call him the Beast?"

Jefferson pulled a face. "I heard he's ruthless. He owns most of the property in town and won't give anyone a break with their rent. If they don't pay, they're out. No excuses. People make deals with him, and they always end up worse than they imagined they would be." He rolled his wineglass between his fingertips absently. "People that deal with him say he seems to know everything about them before they even meet. Knows their weaknesses, knows which buttons to push to get what he wants."

Belle remembered Gold's uncanny ability to guess at exactly what her plans were for the brief time she was in New York. She was, not for the first time, thankful that her father had helped her to buy her own place, but she was finding it hard to think too badly of anyone who donated large sums of money to further people's learning. She told Jefferson as much, and he grimaced.

"Don't blame me when he sucks your soul from your body on the pretext of shaking your hand," he warned, and Belle giggled.

"Come on, Jeff," she teased. "He's just another rich businessman who's used to his own way. You make him sound like – Voldemort."

"A son of Slytherin if ever there was one," nodded Jefferson, and they both chuckled.

"So, what's his first name?" she asked, and he shrugged, slurping his wine.

"For the likes of you and me, sweet cheeks, I'm guessing it's 'Mister'." He looked around, and grimaced. "I'd better mingle and play nice with the donors. Daddy needs a new loom for the weaving room!" He sauntered off with his usual flair, breaking into the conversation of a group of conservatively-dressed women and commenting loudly on their exquisite taste in clothing. Belle grinned.

"Belle." She turned at Graham's voice, a smile growing on her face, which died as she saw that he was standing with Gold. Graham bent to kiss her cheek in greeting, and whispered, so softly she could barely hear him. "_Kiss his arse."_ He straightened up and looked between Gold and Belle. "Mr Gold, this is Belle French, the newest member of our faculty. Belle is preparing to start her doctorate and teaches English Literature to the undergraduates. Belle, this is Mr Gold. He's one of our biggest donors." Graham's expression was almost pleading, and Belle inwardly rolled her eyes.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss French." Gold held out a hand, and she took it, feeling a strange jolt as his skin brushed hers. Her lips parted in surprise and she looked into his dark eyes as he wrapped long fingers around hers.

"Mr Gold," she murmured, and his lips twitched. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see into her soul, and she shook his hand briefly before pulling away. He smiled, amused, and she felt herself blush. What was _wrong_ with her?

"Well, I'll leave you two to talk," announced Graham, and swept away, leaving Belle looking after him furiously.

"Tell me about your research, Miss French," asked Gold, as though they had never met before, and she turned back to him, somewhat flustered.

"Um – well, I've been studying old books and manuscripts for years, and I wanted to go further, to look into the most ancient writings there are. I also want to consider oral histories, the stories that were told before writing was invented, the stories told by people that didn't know how to read or write." As always, when talking about her studies, Belle became animated, gesturing expressively with her hands, the wine coming dangerously close to spilling. "I think a lot can be learned about people from their folk tales, for example."

"I would agree with you," he said, sipping his drink. Whisky, she thought, looking at the amber liquid. "Folk tales often reflect the standards of morality of the time. Cautionary tales, a lot of them." He took another drink. "I understand that you are fluent in several ancient languages."

Belle nodded. "Egyptian, Mayan, Greek, Sumerian and Ogham. I can also read Latin and runes. I'm learning others – that's part of my PhD research."

Gold considered her briefly before handing her his glass and reaching into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small, stone disc with a tiny hole in it. He held it up for her perusal.

"Tell me what you make of this," he said quietly. Belle took it, returning his whisky to him, and looked over the artefact eagerly, running her fingers over the slashed carvings on its face.

"This has to be at least a thousand years old!" she said excitedly, and he shrugged.

"Thirteen hundred, but who's counting?"

"It has the runes for protection," she announced. "It calls on the god Thor to protect the bearer from violence." She looked wistful. "Perhaps it was worn in battle."

He looked intrigued, and tucked the stone disc back into his pocket.

"Impressive, Miss French," he said. "Too few people see the value in what has gone before. It's one of the reasons I'm interested in antiques."

"You own the pawn shop in town, right?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"It's one of my business interests, yes." He shifted his position slightly, and she wondered if it was painful for him to stand for long periods. It didn't seem polite to ask, so she said nothing.

"I've never been in there," she admitted, and he smiled briefly.

"Then you've been fortunate, it appears," he said softly. "No-one comes to see me unless they have no other choice." His eyes sparked with sudden mischief.

"That doesn't sound like the way to do business," she said, a little teasingly. "Surely you want repeat customers?"

He smirked. "Once is usually enough for most people, but I try to ensure that the bargain is advantageous to both parties."

"Meaning that they're desperate and you call the shots?" she guessed, and he showed his teeth.

"Naturally."

"And you don't show any leniency if they fall behind on payment?" she added, and he clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"Miss French, if I didn't know better I'd think someone had been telling you tall tales of my ruthlessness," he drawled. She shrugged, sipping her wine.

"It's a small town. You're infamous. Get over it."

He barked a laugh then, a deep laugh of real amusement, making several people turn and eye them curiously.

"You're not afraid of me at all, are you, dearie?" he said, amused, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Should I be? I don't owe you anything," she pointed out, somewhat loftily, and he grinned.

"Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that," he said softly. "Now tell me, what is it you hear?"

"Actually, not much," she admitted. "I only got the warnings after you spoke to me earlier. But I'm told everyone knows who you are, except, apparently, me." His smile widened.

"That's because I'm everyone's landlord, except yours," he said. "Near enough, anyway. Ms Mills has her own place, obviously."

"You know Dean Mills?"

"Of course. She and I are not what you would call friendly, but she certainly appreciates my money." He grinned darkly as he said it, and Belle was put in mind of an evil imp toying with his victims before cursing them.

"I think giving money to the university is a wonderful thing," she said honestly, and his smile softened, becoming more genuine.

"Why thank you, Miss French. You should bear in mind, however, that I am a businessman. I always expect something in return."

"And here I thought you were a philanthropist," she teased, and the smile widened.

"Well, I've been called worse."

Belle returned his smile, secretly astounded at how easy she was finding it to flirt with him given the fact that he had made her a little uncomfortable on their last meeting. She _never_ flirted; at least, not as far as she was aware. She wondered idly if she could blame the wine, but decided half a glass probably wasn't sufficient justification. Briefly, the dream she had had flitted through her mind, but she pushed it firmly to the back before it could make her blush.

"So, what does Graham want from you?" she asked, leaning towards him slightly, as though their conversation was a private thing. "He's as giddy as a teenage girl on her first date, he obviously wants tonight to go well."

"Indeed. Your perception is admirable." He took another drink, watching for her reaction. "I'm informed that he wants to expand the library. Build an additional wing, or something."

Belle gasped. "That would be wonderful!" She clutched at his arm, surprising him. "Will you do it?"

"Well, that all depends, doesn't it?" His voice was soft; his eyes flicked over her.

"On what?" she asked slowly, and his mouth twitched in a half-smile.

"On you, dearie."

She dropped his arm as though it burned her. "What's your price?" she asked, her voice wary, and his smile widened, showing a glint of gold on the bottom row of teeth.

"Have dinner with me," he suggested, and she frowned suspiciously.

"That's it? Dinner?"

He rolled his eyes. "Miss French, pull your mind out of the gutter! We barely know one another. No need to be so eager, hmm?"

She blushed. "You know I wasn't – I didn't mean…"

"Ah, the eloquence of the socially awkward," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling momentarily. "Have dinner with me, and we will discuss my proposal. I promise to be a gentleman."

"Okay." Her answer seemed to surprise them both.

"Excellent," he said briskly. "I'll pick you up tomorrow. Seven-thirty. Don't be late." He half-turned, before spinning back to face her. "Oh, and I overheard Professor Hunter telling you to kiss my arse," he added. His lips curled into a smile. "I look forward to that." He turned on his heel and left her standing, mouth open.

_What the hell just happened? _ She walked slowly to the bar and put her glass down. Ruby promptly filled it again and shot her a quizzical look.

"You met Gold, then," she said, and Belle leant on the bar, palms slapping against the polished wood.

"That's him!" she hissed, and when Ruby raised a questioning eyebrow: "The guy from the train!"

Ruby choked. "The guy from the train was _Gold_? Belle, you can't be serious!"

"What?" said Belle defensively. "I said he was infuriating."

Ruby put her hands on her hips, her expression stern. "You said he was infuriating but that you couldn't stop thinking about him. And may I remind you that we are talking about _Gold_, here. Are you sure he hasn't put some sort of spell on you?"

"You're being ridiculous," huffed Belle, taking a drink. "Besides, we just had a reasonably pleasant conversation."

Ruby giggled. "So I saw. Did the two of you decide to get a room, and if so, when and where?"

Belle choked on her wine. "_What?"_

Ruby gave her a level look. "Come on, Belle, you were both flirting shamelessly!"

"We were not!" Belle lied hotly, and Ruby folded her arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Belle, you made him _laugh_. For Gold that's the equivalent of bending you over the table."

Belle burst out laughing herself, blushing at the mental image.

"How did it go?" asked Graham eagerly, appearing at her elbow, and she turned to face him slowly.

"I think I have a date with Mr Gold," she said, the words sounding bizarre as they fell from her mouth. Graham kissed her on both cheeks as Ruby looked revolted.

"I knew I could rely on you, Belle!" he said excitedly. "Just – keep him sweet until we get the cash. He asked to meet you specifically, you know."

"Keep him _sweet_?" Belle began tapping her foot, irritated. "Graham, do you realise you're pimping me out for books?"

"No, Belle!" Graham was shocked. "It's not like that! He won't lay a finger on you. He's interested in your research. God, I would never expect you to do anything like that!" He looked genuinely hurt.

"It's okay, I'm teasing," she sighed. "Mostly." She grinned suddenly. "Besides, a new wing for the library? It'd be worth being Gold's sex-bunny for the weekend for that!"

Ruby snorted with laughter. "I'll remind you of that when you complain to me about all the filthy things he made you do."

"Trust you to lower the tone," countered Belle, with an amused glint in her eye.

"You started it, book-whore." They both giggled, and Graham kissed the top of Belle's head before excusing himself. Ruby grinned at Belle.

"So, a date with the Beast, huh?"

"Yeah." Belle looked apologetic. "It's tomorrow. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to skip girls' night. At least the first part."

Ruby shrugged. "We won't have drunk all the wine by the time you get home." She grinned widely. "Besides, we'll want to hear everything about how it went. I had no idea Gold even knew what a date was." She gave Belle a sly look. "If you get him naked, be sure to check for circuits and wires and stuff. My guess is he's some sort of cyborg."

Belle snorted into her wine, then looked over her shoulder. Gold was some way from her, listening to Archie, who was talking animatedly. He met her eyes for a moment and his mouth twitched, as though he knew a joke no-one else was in on. Remembering his keen sense of hearing, she hoped he hadn't heard Ruby's quip. She turned back to her friend. "How do you know him?"

"Granny rents the inn and the diner from him," said Ruby, puffing air through her cheeks. "She was a week late with the rent once. He was drawing up the eviction papers and everything. Luckily I managed to pitch in and bail her out. I tried to sweet-talk him but nothing worked."

"He was immune to the Ruby Lucas charm?" Belle batted her eyelids, clutching at her chest in mock horror. "That's it. Definitely not human. Did you wear the red hot-pants and everything?"

"Shut up!" Ruby swatted her arm. "And yes. Didn't work. He barely looked at me."

* * *

**A/N: Next time, Belle gets an unpleasant surprise, and Gold makes her an offer she can't refuse…**

**Hope you enjoyed, please let me know if so!**


	3. Creme Brulee

**A/N: Hee hee! Loving the reaction from you gorgeous people! **

**AngelQueen13: I'm not in your mind but I'd love to be (if that's not creepy) – it sounds like an interesting place!**

**Wondermorena: delicious bastard though he is, he's not ****_that_**** much of a bastard. Besides, having to pay her for sex, even if he could get our sweet Belle to agree, wouldn't be something his ego could cope with.**

**Twyla Mercedes: well, you know he's his own worst enemy at times…**

**All Hallows' Eve31, RoxyMoron (great name), JustBFree, Erik'sTrueAngel, chloe, RipperBlackstaff and Guest: thanks for your encouragement – here's your update!**

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Ms Mills?" said Belle, poking her head around Regina's door. Despite studying at the university for five years, and working there for two more, Belle had never felt comfortable calling the Dean by her first name. Given Regina's refusal to do likewise, she assumed the feeling was mutual. Belle was somewhat comforted by the fact that none of the faculty staff seemed to like the Dean. Even Graham, who was actually sleeping with her, was never seen in public with her other than the occasional kiss in the local bars. They appeared to keep their dalliances to the bedroom, which wasn't something Belle particularly wanted to think about.

Regina looked up from the papers she was reading. She was a beautiful woman, thought Belle. A black-haired, dark-eyed beauty with flawless skin and a curvaceous figure that would have any man eating out of her hand. Quite why she felt the need to make everyone fear her was a mystery.

"Miss French," she said, in clipped tones. "Please, come in. I trust your mother is well?"

Belle frowned. Her mother was a sore point. She had attended a university function when Belle had received a prize for her final year project, and had got chatting with Regina. The two had struck up a kind of friendship – at least, as much as two people as self-absorbed as Regina and her mother _could_. Belle had listened to her mother talk of Regina and her ambition in rapturous tones, hinting that this was what she had wanted for _her_ daughter. Belle resented being compared unfavourably to the highly unpopular, but undoubtedly successful Dean. Her father, unsurprisingly, had rolled his eyes and told her to ignore it.

"Very well, thank you," she said, somewhat stiffly. Regina smirked.

"How are you enjoying your time with us, Miss French?" she asked, putting her pen down and sitting back. "Have you enjoyed teaching the undergraduates?"

"Very much," said Belle, not trying to hide the eagerness in her voice. "It's been a challenge, but I've loved every minute of it. I'm looking forward to the new intake."

"Good." Regina's voice was short, businesslike. "Professor Legrand has left us. I'm afraid that leaves me rather short-handed."

Belle leant on the desk in shock, and Regina curled her lip at the sudden intrusion into her personal space.

"Anton's _resigned_?" gasped Belle, and the Dean grimaced.

"Well, not so much 'resigned' as 'taking some personal time'," she clarified. "He's out for at least six months. I need you to take over some of his classes. It'll mean a few more hours, so we can adjust your contract accordingly."

"Okay," said Belle, slowly. It would mean a little extra work, but she knew the syllabus. "I don't think it'll cut into my study time too much."

"Study time?" asked Regina, innocently. Belle frowned.

"My doctorate," she explained. "I'm supposed to start it next month, remember?"

"Oh yes." Regina crossed her legs, swinging back on her chair with a wide, false smile on her face. "I'm afraid you'll have to put that on hold. The university is somewhat short of funds in the research budget this semester, and I don't see my way to funding any of your research in the current economic climate. Professor Hunter wants to expand the library, and I'm sure you'll agree that's a worthwhile cause that will benefit everyone."

Belle felt as though an icy fist had punched her in the stomach.

"But – it was agreed!" she objected. "Graham said…"

"Professor Hunter," countered Regina, with a smirk. "Does not control the budget for this university. He may have an interest in your childish obsession with folk stories and fairy tales, but I do not. The research budget for staff will go to areas which are likely to result in further income for the university, not to satisfy the personal interests of a faculty member." Her smile did not reach her eyes. "I'm sure you understand, Miss French," she added dismissively, turning back to her paperwork.

Belle lifted her chin. "Indeed I do," she said icily, and swept from the room before she could say something she regretted.

* * *

Gold was looping his red silk tie around his neck when the doorbell rang. Glancing at his watch, he muttered under his breath about how arriving early was sometimes worse than being late, and limped downstairs to the front door.

"I know, I know, I'm early," said Jefferson, marching past him without so much as a greeting. Gold followed him into the lounge, where the man threw himself down onto a leather sofa, sprawling casually. Gold finished pulling the tie into a neat knot and straightened the collar of his silk shirt, a red so dark it was almost black. He smoothed an imaginary crease in his waistcoat and settled his hands on his cane.

"So?" he said quietly, and Jefferson pulled a face.

"She's intrigued," he said. "I think she'll say yes."

"Of course she'll say yes," said Gold dismissively, as though it were obvious. "What did you say to her?"

Jefferson blinked. "Tried to warn her off, of course."

Gold's hands tightened on his cane. "Remind me again why I pay you, Mr Milliner."

Jefferson snorted. "Because people will tell _me_ things but run in the opposite direction when they see _you_ coming. What else could I do? It would have been weird if I hadn't told her you were a monster when the whole town thinks it."

Gold glared at him, but accepted that the point was valid.

"Anyway, she kind of stuck up for you, so you could get lucky," added Jefferson.

"I'm not interested in 'getting lucky', as you put it," said Gold flatly.

"Sure you're not." Jefferson grinned at him, and Gold rolled his eyes.

"And the rest?" he asked waspishly. Jefferson sat up, resting his hands on his knees.

"She has a boyfriend," he began.

"Exactly how worried should I be?"

"Says the man who's not interested?" Gold frowned, and Jefferson held up a placating hand. "Alright, alright! I don't think they're exactly love's young dream. They've been together three years, but she only sees him two nights a week. Doesn't talk about him much, and I've never met him. There's a picture on her desk, but that's it."

"And how does he look?" asked Gold casually. Jefferson grinned.

"Tall, dark, very handsome, built like a footballer," he said with relish. Gold sent him a look.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accused, and Jefferson shrugged with a grin.

"She hangs out with Emma Swan, Ruby Lucas and Snow Blanchard," he continued. "Occasionally there are a few others hanging around, but those four are a tight ship. Girls' night every Friday. She runs, sometimes with Ruby, sometimes on her own, and she goes to spin class twice a week. She likes good food and lots of it, definitely not a 'garden salad, no dressing' kind of girl."

Gold smirked, pleased. "I assumed as much. Go on."

"She reads a lot, you won't be surprised to hear. Not material, so don't think you can buy your way into her pants, although I'm sure you wouldn't ever think such a heinous thought, and she likes roses." He pondered his next words. "She's also really sweet, Gold. She sees the best in everyone." There was an undercurrent in his words, almost a warning: _don't hurt her_. Gold nodded.

"There's hope for us all, it seems," he remarked dryly. He moved to the dresser and wrote out a cheque, handing it to Jefferson as the other man bounced up off the sofa. "Spend it wisely," he said with a slight grin, and Jefferson smirked.

"Looking this good doesn't come cheap, you know," he said, running his hands over his purple velvet jacket. Gold sniffed.

"You look like a reject from _Great Expectations_," he said witheringly, and Jefferson grinned.

"But a devilishly handsome one," he said.

* * *

Belle was still fuming over Regina's bombshell that evening as she prepared for her meeting with Gold. She had ranted on the phone to Ruby for half an hour after leaving the Dean's office, during which time the two of them had considered several imaginative ways in which Regina could meet a violent end without either of them getting caught. She had phoned Gary, but he had suggested brightly that it just meant they could spend more time together, which had only made her madder. She also stormed into Graham's office and sounded off to him, faced only with his pleading expression and repeated protestations that it was Regina's right to decide on the allocation of funding, whereupon she had stormed out again. All in all, she was angry, nervous, and not feeling confident about the coming meeting. Gold had implied that he wanted to talk about her research, but given Regina's decision it was looking as though that would be a short conversation. She put the finishing touches to her make-up, slipped on silver earrings and sighed, looking herself over. She thought that the dark blue dress, with its knee-length flared skirt and lace inserts, was classy enough. She had considered wearing something more sober, but Ruby had encouraged her to wear the dress, insisting that she team it with silver heels. Her hair was swept up into a loose bun, tendrils falling around her face. She gazed at herself in the mirror, her expression critical. She looked as though she was going on an actual date, not to discuss a business proposition. Frowning, she reached behind her to the zipper of the dress.

"Oh no you don't," said Ruby sternly, from the doorway. "You look great, don't change."

"I'm not sure this is appropriate," said Belle uncertainly. "It's supposed to be a business meeting."

"Then you will strike the first blow in any negotiations by looking absolutely fabulous," said Ruby crisply. "Use the weapons you've got, girl!"

"I think he'll be expecting me to wear a suit," said Belle lamely, and Ruby huffed.

"All the more reason to look like that," she said firmly. "You know what they say: 'confuse your enemy and attack from a position of strength'."

Belle thought for a moment, and realised Ruby was probably right. It was a dinner date, after all, not a lunchtime meeting. She grasped her purse from the dresser and followed her friend downstairs to the kitchen, where Emma and Snow were sitting with glasses of wine, a bowl of tortilla chips in front of them.

"Hey, you look great!" said Snow, beaming at her. Belle smiled her thanks, picking up her jacket and shrugging it on. "So, where's he taking you?"

"I'm not sure, some restaurant, I suppose," said Belle absently, looking through the pile of papers in her briefcase to ensure she had everything.

"Just don't get drunk and let him feel you up," said Emma flatly.

Belle blushed. "It's not like that," she muttered. "We'll be talking about my research, I think. He said he had some sort of proposal."

"My guess is it's an indecent one," quipped Emma, and Belle rolled her eyes.

"Do you think about nothing else, Swan?" she demanded.

"I'm just saying," protested Emma, holding up her hands. "The two of you, little restaurant, romantic candlelight. Doesn't exactly sound like a business meeting."

"Well, when I get back you'll be sorely disappointed in my lack of news," huffed Belle, gathering her papers together.

"Don't mind her, Belle," comforted Snow, then put a hand to the side of her mouth and added, in a loud, conspiratorial whisper "she's going through a bit of a dry spell."

Emma glared at her friend, who immediately became the picture of innocence.

"I bet he makes a move," said Ruby slyly.

"He will not!" Belle objected.

"He will!" She stood, gesturing theatrically. "Imagine the scene! Belle 'accidently' drops her papers, brushing his leg seductively as she picks them up. Hands meet over the table as he passes her more wine, and they gaze into one another's eyes, each feeling the insatiable desire of the other." She clasped her hands by her cheek and fluttered her eyelids. "'_Oh, Mr Gold!' _Belle cries. _'Please, make a woman of me! Throw me down on the dessert cart and take me manfully as you lick crème brulée off my hot, ripe little body!'"_

The others were howling with laughter, and even Belle joined in, although her face was crimson.

"I don't know why you bother with forensics, Rubes, when you could spend your time writing clichéd smut novels," chuckled Snow. Ruby grinned and shrugged.

"Granny always thought I should have a trade to fall back on," she said.

"Okay, you do realise I'm now not going to be able to order dessert, don't you?" said Belle accusingly. "I hope you're happy."

The ring of the doorbell made her head flick around, and she gasped.

"Oh! I have to go!" She snapped her briefcase shut and trotted towards the door, hearing the others follow her. She wasn't quite sure why they thought she needed an escort, but there wasn't time to tell them to bugger off. She wrenched open the door and Gold smiled as he looked her up and down, clad in his customary three-piece suit with a black wool overcoat which she was sure he must be too hot in.

"Miss French, you're looking particularly lovely this evening," he said softly, and Belle blushed slightly as his eyes flicked over the three faces crowding behind her.

"_Crème brulée!_" whispered Ruby wickedly in her ear, and Belle flushed to her hairline.

"Um – Mr Gold, I think you know my roommate Ruby Lucas, and these are my friends Emma Swan and Snow Blanchard."

He inclined his head, his mouth twitching in an almost-smile. "Ladies. If you'll excuse us, we have a reservation for eight. Miss French?" He held out his arm, and, somewhat uncertainly, Belle took it, shooting a look over her shoulder at the others. All three waved cheerily, Ruby's smile particularly wide, and she made up her mind to ensure they suffered later.

* * *

Gold had a car waiting for them, a sleek black Cadillac, with a tall, silent man at the wheel. They were driven to _La Dame de Coeur_, a French restaurant whose menu Belle had often salivated over as she walked past, but at which she had never eaten. The décor inside was opulent, the walls a deep red with alabaster columns and panelling, reminding Belle of a Parisian dining-room in the late nineteenth century. The _maitre d' _positively fawned over Gold, showing them to a table set for two with a view of the beautiful gardens behind the restaurant. Gold took Belle's coat and pulled out her chair for her to sit down, which she had seen in movies but never experienced in reality. She bit her lip to hide a smile at the thought of Gary pulling out her chair. The waiter laid a napkin over her lap, and her amusement grew as she surveyed the different items of cutlery and glassware in front of her and imagined how her boyfriend's brow would knit in confusion.

"Something amusing, Miss French?" asked Gold, as he slid into the seat opposite her.

"Not exactly," she admitted, looking around. "It's just – I think I'm a long way from Kansas." Her eyes sparkled with humour, and he chuckled.

"Just relax and act as though you own the place," he said dryly. "Works every time, trust me."

Belle smiled back at him, and opened her menu, scanning the list of dishes.

"There are no prices," she said, surprised, and he smirked.

"As you won't be paying for this meal, the prices really shouldn't have any bearing on what you order."

"So I can have anything?"

"Anything you desire," he said softly. She blushed slightly, and turned back to the menu. She wanted to eat everything on offer, but in the end she went for ceps and mature goat's cheese with truffles, rocket and olive oil, then salmon with a pink grapefruit sauce. Belle could feel her mouth water due to the smells emanating from the kitchens. Her stomach was threatening to growl in anticipation, and she hoped the service was quick. He laced his fingers together as he watched her, the heavy gold ring glinting in the candlelight, and she reached out instinctively, stroking her fingertip over the pale stone. He looked up at her, surprised at the sudden contact.

"May I see that?" she asked softly, and he held up his hand for her inspection. She took it in her own, closing her slender fingers around his wrist to keep it still. His hand was smooth and cool, his fingernails very clean and perfectly manicured. She had never seen that on any man she knew, but it was pleasant. The ring was large and solid, with little in the way of engraving. It was really rather plain, but it nonetheless emitted a sense of age, of weight and importance. The stone seemed at one moment pale blue, the next a milky grey.

"It looks old," she ventured, and he smiled as he withdrew his hand, his palm tingling from her touch.

"Circa 1685," he said quietly, and she gasped.

"It's over three hundred years old!" she said excitedly, and he grinned.

"Yes, almost as old as I am," he added. She sighed.

"That's incredible! Imagine what it must have seen in all that time, the people that have worn it!"

"Yes, indeed," he nodded, his grin widening. "If I'd known you then, you would have been wearing a silk dress down to the floor and the two of us dining together would cause a delicious scandal."

Belle chuckled. "Thank God it's the twenty-first century," she said fervently, and he raised his glass, clinking it against hers in a toast.

"Why don't you tell me what you're reading about at the moment?" he asked quietly, taking a sip of wine, and she nodded.

"I'm looking at folk tales and the role of women," she began. "How women are always in these traditional roles and either seem to be ugly old crones or beautiful maidens. And the fact that their lives aren't complete unless they find a man."

"Well, I suppose folk tales were a way of keeping the _status quo_," he suggested. "As I said before, cautionary tales. 'Be a good girl, work hard and stay chaste, and a good man will want to marry you and give you children'. What else was there for women to aspire to, really? They didn't have the freedoms you enjoy today, Miss French."

"True," she sighed. "I would have gone mad. Imagine, not being able to read or write. To not own anything, to be entirely dependent on a husband!"

"Oh, I don't think we need to condemn you to such a fate," he said soothingly. "If you'd been alive then, you wouldn't have been a peasant girl mucking out cowsheds. You'd have been a noble lady, fluent in three or four languages and with the library of a great house for her pleasure."

Belle giggled. "Thanks for your confidence," she said. "But given my father's propensity to spend money, I'd be mucking out cowsheds no matter what class I was born into."

He smirked. "Well, we couldn't have that," he countered. "Perhaps I could be the one to save you from this wretched life?"

"And how do you propose to do that?" she asked teasingly, leaning towards him, and his eyebrows twitched.

"Perhaps we could make a deal," he said softly. "I'm sure there's something precious you could offer me."

"Like what, my first-born child?" She took a drink of wine, grinning at him over the top of her glass. "I read _that_ story. Doesn't end well for you."

"Oh, so I'm Rumplestiltskin in this little fairy tale of yours?" he said, eyebrows twitching. "How very fitting."

"I don't think he was as good at making deals as you," she said pensively, chewing her lower lip adorably and causing an uncomfortable tightness in his loins. "Too many loopholes and second chances. You would never have given the miller's daughter so many guesses."

"Indeed not." He refilled their glasses. "Of course, something always gets lost in the telling. In the passing of many years."

"I suppose." She took another drink. "Perhaps Rumplestiltskin really bested everyone at deal-making, Snow White's evil stepmother was misunderstood, and Red Riding Hood was actually a werewolf."

He smiled. "Stranger things have happened."

She grinned at him as she sipped her wine. He sat back a little, watching her closely with his dark eyes, and she shifted in her chair, feeling a little as though she was being mentally undressed. The thought was unnerving, but not entirely unpleasant. She took a drink to steady her nerves and looked up at him.

"Mr Gold, I'm not really sure why I'm here," she began. "What is it you wanted to discuss?"

He took a sip of wine, placing the glass delicately on the table. "I'm interested in your research and your abilities, Miss French, and I'd like to propose a deal," he said calmly.

Belle pulled a face. "I'm afraid my research is on hold," she sighed, grimacing as he looked up sharply. "Dean Mills has told me there's no budget to fund my doctorate this year. The university was going to pay, you see, but now…" She broke off as he sat back, watching her, elbows on the table and his fingers tented in front of him.

"I see," he said, tapping his fingertips together. "That changes things."

Belle nodded, a little miserably. "I'm sorry if I've wasted your time…" she began, but he shook his head.

"You misunderstand me, dearie. I merely meant that this changes the terms of my proposal. In fact, this makes things quite simple. I'm still very interested in doing business with you."

"But, what could I have that you want?" faltered Belle, and his smile was dark.

"I am a purveyor of rare and valuable objects," he explained. "And over the years, many old books and manuscripts have come into my possession. I understand a little of some of them, but my knowledge is limited. I need someone of your expertise to look over them, translate them and catalogue them."

Belle gasped in delight. "Really? I'd be looking at old manuscripts?"

"Indeed," he confirmed, smiling at her enthusiasm. "In return for which – I will fund your PhD studies myself."

Belle sat back, feeling suddenly winded. "What?"

"I said I will pay for you to obtain your doctorate. If you wish to complete it sooner rather than later, I will also buy you out of your teaching contract with the university so that you can research full-time."

Belle's heart was beating furiously; she felt as though the air had suddenly gone from the room.

"I – I don't…" she stammered. She leant on the table. "Have you any idea how much all that would _cost_?"

"Yes," he said simply. "In fact, I'm insulted that you would think I hadn't already done the calculations."

Belle stared at him, and he looked back impassively.

"It's too much," she said thickly, and he smiled.

"I want you to continue your research as you investigate the various treasures that I possess," he went on. "I may need you to accompany me when I go to purchase additional items. I will also require you to meet with me twice weekly over dinner to discuss your progress. So you see, Miss French, this will take up a fair amount of your valuable time. I would not wish you to go unrewarded."

"Dinner," said Belle slowly, focusing on something she could readily understand. "You mean at places like this?"

He pulled a face. "Well, I certainly have no intention of getting take-out fried chicken."

Belle thought furiously. He was offering her everything she could want. There had to be a catch.

"I'm not sure I understand," she said. "I get my studies paid for, and you get me to catalogue some books – it just seems an unequal bargain."

"I get your expertise," he corrected. "Your ability to translate ancient languages. Your understanding of old artefacts. Not to mention the pleasure of your company. I have no doubt I'm getting the better end of this bargain." He rolled the wineglass between his fingertips, the liquid within catching the light and spilling pale gold reflections across the white table cloth. "Without wishing to be vulgar, I have a lot of money, Miss French. More than I could ever spend. You have something that I need, and I intend to pay a fair price for it. With all the hideous tales you've heard of me, dearie, do you honestly think I would sell myself short?"

Belle made her decision. "I won't ask you to buy out my contract," she said firmly. "I like teaching. I want to keep that up. But I would be very grateful if you would agree to fund my studies. In return for which I will carry out the work that you request, and will meet with you twice a week to discuss it." She raised her chin defiantly. "But I get to choose the venue for one of those occasions, and I pay for the meal that night."

She half-expected him to be annoyed, but he seemed amused and pleased with her attempts to change the terms of his proposal.

"Very well," he agreed. "Wednesday and Saturday?"

She shook her head. "I see my boyfriend then," she said firmly. "And Friday night is girls' night. Tonight's an exception. How about Monday and Thursday?"

"Agreed." He held out his hand and, after a moment's hesitation, she shook it. A strange feeling came over her, an odd heaviness, as though her life had undergone a fundamental change. She supposed it had.

Their food was delicious, and Belle cleared her plate with ease. Gold took slightly longer over his rack of lamb, but then he did most of the talking. They discussed the terms of the deal in some detail; Gold stated that he would draw up a contract that weekend and she could read over it at her own leisure before signing. Belle agreed, thinking she needed to read it a good few times to ensure he hadn't included anything unreasonable. Not that she expected him to, exactly, but she couldn't help but recall everyone else's opinions of his dealings. She had no intention of entering into a deal with him without knowing exactly what she was getting into. Once their discussion was concluded and their plates removed, he sat back in his chair, eyeing her closely. His eyes were very dark in the candlelight, deep and intriguing, and she felt a sudden tug in her belly, mouth opening in surprise as she recognised desire. She watched his hands with their long fingers stroking the stem of his wineglass, and wondered fleetingly how they would feel running over her skin. She blushed furiously and he smiled slowly, devastatingly, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. Belle dropped her eyes and fidgeted, tapping her fingers against her wineglass. _Don't look at the dessert cart. Don't look at the dessert cart. Don't look at the – _

"Would you care for dessert, Miss French?" She jerked herself out of her reverie, reddening again.

"Er – no, thank you," she said awkwardly.

"Are you sure? The crème brulée is really excellent. I'll be ordering some."

_Thanks a lot, Ruby. I'm just supposed to sit here and watch him eat that, now, am I?_ "Um – oh – alright, I'll have the white chocolate parfait." It would at least give her something to concentrate on other than the mental images Ruby had conjured. She was going to spend the rest of her life blushing at this rate.

* * *

**A/N: So, that's the deal. Sounds fairly harmless, doesn't it? However, it will lead to violence, murder and all manner of nasties. Oh, and sex. Mustn't forget that.**

**I've discovered that reviews make me write faster, so please let me know your thoughts xx**


	4. An Awkward Beginning

**A/N: Nope, still don't own Once Upon a Time. Probably just as well. If I did, Mr Gold would be living in my house and you guys wouldn't get updates nearly as often…**

**Thanks to all my new readers who followed and favourited.**

**Wondermorena: As this is an alternate universe, Neverland won't feature. As far as the crème brulée goes, I'm not saying he can read minds, but he probably ****_was_**** thinking about licking it off her.**

**All Hallows' Eve 31: Yes on the sex. As for the rest of it, I don't want to give too much away but all I can say is that we know he has a temper, but anyone he's violent to will thoroughly deserve it. **

**JustBFree: Ruby always has a bit of a one-track mind in my fics, that's why I love her!**

**Guest: Ahhh! Gold's reasons for making the deal aren't ****_entirely_**** down to his attraction to Belle. You'll find out soon enough! Nice comments, thank you so much!**

**Erik's True Angel: Regina is a bitch – but I love her! I love writing dialogue between her and Gold, some of which is coming up. Glad you're enjoying the UST – more to come!**

**RipperBlackstaff, Remka, Twyla Mercedes, michelle. 1, Claire and Timi: thanks so much for your supportive comments, here's your update! I was going to wait until the weekend, but you guys have been so nice I couldn't resist.**

* * *

Gold took Belle home after dinner, the tall, silent man who he introduced as Mr Dover driving them once more in the Cadillac. The ride home was quiet, for which Belle was grateful as her mind was whirling, but he promised to drop off the contract next week as they pulled up outside her house. She was still fumbling with her seatbelt when he opened the door on her side, holding out his hand to her. Strangely touched by his good manners, she allowed him to pull her up so that she was within inches of him. She could smell his scent, warm spice with hints of musk and smoke, and swallowed hard, trying to clear her head. He clasped her fingers briefly, wishing her goodnight with a slight bow. Belle smiled at him a little uncertainly, and walked slowly up the path to her door, fumbling her keys into her hand, her head spinning with the events of the evening. She could hear music coming from the kitchen, and Ruby, Snow and Emma all looked up as Belle walked in and took off her coat. She poured herself a glass of wine, feeling their eyes on her back.

"Well?" said Ruby impatiently. "How did it go?"

Belle sighed, turning to them, and bit her lip as she considered how to answer. "Would you think I was very strange if I said I had a good time?"

Ruby and Emma said 'Yes' and Snow said 'No', then they all stared at one another and burst out laughing.

"Personally I'd think you were in serious need of professional help," said Ruby flatly.

"What's he like?" asked Snow curiously. Belle leant back against the sideboard, thinking.

"Like no-one I've ever met," she said slowly. "He's – it's almost like he's two different people. On the one hand he's incredibly polite and – old-fashioned – like he was born in a different time. He pulled out my chair and held out my coat and he called me Miss French and he stood up when I left the table." Emma shared an amused grin with Ruby. "And then, on the other hand, you can tell he's absolutely ruthless and won't give quarter to anyone. He's got a wicked sense of humour, too. I think he enjoys making people dance to his tune."

"As long as you're not one of them," remarked Emma, and the others nodded.

"I trust him," announced Belle. Her three friends exchanged looks of alarm, and she held up her hand. "No, hear me out. I know he's seen as a monster in this town, and that people think he's unsympathetic and cold, but I think he just likes agreements to be honoured, and when they're not, he can't make excuses for anyone. I think that if I make a deal with him, I have nothing to fear as long as I hold up my end of the bargain."

"So, what's the deal he wants to make?" asked Snow.

"He wants me to work for him," explained Belle, taking a mouthful of wine. It wasn't as good as what she'd had at the restaurant. "Translation, cataloguing, handling his old artefacts…"

"Please tell me that's not a euphemism," interrupted Emma, and Ruby snickered.

"Researching the old texts and manuscripts he has," continued Belle, more loudly, glaring at them. "I also have to meet with him twice weekly to discuss what I've found. Mondays and Thursdays."

"So, what do you get out of it?" asked Ruby, and Belle hesitated.

"He's paying for my PhD," she said, and the others gasped.

"That's a lot of handling of artefacts," remarked Emma. Belle gave her a level look.

"Regina won't like it," observed Snow, then grinned. "All the more reason to do it."

Belle returned the grin. "Yeah, I can't wait to tell her I'll be starting my research after all."

"So, you're going to do it, then?" asked Ruby, an excited gleam in her eyes. Belle shrugged.

"He's dropping a contract off next week," she said. "If I'm happy that there's nothing weird in it, I'll sign."

Her three friends looked at one another with amused grins.

"Anything else to tell us?" asked Ruby innocently, and Belle frowned.

"Yes, he ordered the bloody crème brulée! Thanks a lot for that one, Lucas, my face was the colour of your lipstick!"

Ruby smirked. "Come on, don't tell me he wasn't thinking about smearing it over your naked body before he ate it."

"Should we ever decide to eat dessert off one another, you'll be the first to know," said Belle dryly. "I regret to inform you that he was a perfect gentleman, so you'll have to find another target for your bizarre fantasies."

Ruby pouted. "Okay. What do you think Archie's into?"

The other three groaned.

* * *

Mr Gold was true to his word, and called at the university to drop off the contract for her on Monday. Belle did not see him, as he had arrived when she was in class and had simply left it on her desk with his card clipped to the top. She read over the contract carefully, then re-read it. There was nothing unpalatable in there, although some of the stipulations seemed a little peculiar. She was to attend him at the shop by prior appointment, agreeable to both parties, and meet with him on Monday and Thursday evenings. Wherever they were going for dinner, they had to arrive together and leave together, which seemed rather particular to Belle. He would pick her up and take her home. He had agreed to her request to choose one of the venues, but there were to be no fast food chains under any circumstances. Each week he would assign her some tasks, which she would work on and report back to him at their dinner meetings. Should they wish to change the night on which they met, barring sudden emergencies, this would again be possible by mutual agreement and giving at least 48 hours' notice. Should they need to travel anywhere to purchase any new pieces, she would be given at least one week's notice and he would pay all expenses. In the meantime she would be free to pursue her own research, and he wished her to keep him updated on that as well. It would also be possible for her to include some of the work that she was doing for him in her research, if he was agreeable. All in all Belle felt that the contract was more than fair, and she called him to say that she would sign. He sounded pleased, and offered to come by her house that evening to collect the paperwork.

Belle opened the door to him, wearing a butter-yellow dress with a flared skirt and matching peep-toe shoes. Her hair was pinned up at the sides, dark curls falling down her back, and she smiled at him, a beautiful smile. On the crisp autumn evening she was like the last ray of summer sun, and he thought that she had never looked more stunning, more adorable, or more completely out of his league. The thought gave him a sour feeling, and he merely nodded to her as he entered the house. She noticed his eyes flicking over everything curiously, and imagined that he missed nothing. She was suddenly thankful that she had cleared all her underwear from off the radiators where it had been drying.

"I've read over everything, and it seems fine," she said. "Would you like some tea?"

"Please." He allowed her to show him into the lounge, and she promised to return momentarily. He looked at the furnishings; mismatched but comfortable sofas, a dresser carved from dark wood (old and a little battered around the edges), a large flat-screen television, a wood-burning stove surrounded by a heavy stone fireplace, and bookshelves in the alcoves beside the chimneybreast. He ran his eyes over the books crammed on there; an annotated hardback of Shakespeare's complete works, classics, modern works of fiction, numerous historical novels, large hardback books on ancient languages and fairy tales, and a shelf of crime thrillers that he suspected belonged to the Lucas girl. A black cat, with a white bib of fur starting at its chin and spreading across its chest, eyed him coolly from where it sat atop the dresser. Gold bent to scratch its ears, and the cat purred and rubbed its head against his questing fingers. He liked cats, admired their independence and aloofness. He straightened as Belle entered the room with a tray of tea things, and she smiled.

"I see you've met Malvolio," she said, and he chuckled.

"Malvolio? Really? Do you dress him in yellow cross-gartered stockings?"

Belle giggled, putting a hand to her mouth and blushing. Gold gave her a curious look, and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, it's just something Gary said, my boyfriend," she said, her face reddening further. Gold frowned, unsure that he wanted her boyfriend to be a topic of conversation. Belle began to pour the tea. "He asked my cat's name, and when I told him, he asked where I'd gotten the name," she explained, adding a dash of milk to Gold's cup. "I said 'you know, from _Twelfth Night_', and he said 'oh, was Malvolio the one that brought the gold, or the frankincense?'" She giggled harder, and Gold smiled.

"And rather than say, 'no, the Shakespeare play, you imbecile', you told him it was the one that brought the myrrh," he guessed. Belle let out another peal of laughter, and he smiled more widely. She had a beautiful laugh.

"So, to business, then," she announced, taking a seat and crossing her lovely legs. "I've read through the contract, and although there are a few stipulations that seem overly precise, there's nothing objectionable."

"Overly precise?" He took a sip of his tea, and was pleasantly surprised.

"Well, the one where we have to arrive together and leave together when we meet for dinner," she explained, and he shrugged.

"Take it out if you wish. I merely thought it would encourage a sense of camaraderie. We will be working together rather a lot."

"Fine," said Belle. "Then I'll sign it, if you have a pen."

He withdrew a black and gold fountain pen from his inside pocket with a flourish, and within two minutes the contract was agreed. Gold put it inside his jacket, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"I'll go to the university tomorrow and pay your fees," he said, and she beamed at him.

"Thank you. This is really exciting! I can't wait to get started."

"Your enthusiasm is admirable," he said dryly. "If you're free tomorrow, I'd like you to come to the shop."

She nodded. "I'm teaching until three. Will that do?"

"Let's say four o'clock," he suggested, sipping his tea. "There are a number of things I'd like to go over with you. I see no point in us meeting for dinner until next week, when you've had a chance to start work, so we'll make next Monday the first occasion." He eyed her. "You can pick, if you like."

Belle nodded, still excited, her legs bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. He couldn't help but smile at her.

"This tea is excellent, by the way," he added. "It's so hard to get a decent cup in this country unless I'm making it myself."

She grinned. "My gran was English," she explained. "She taught me that loose-leaf tea from a teapot is the only way to go."

Gold drained his cup and stood up.

"Until tomorrow, then," he announced, and she showed him to the door.

* * *

One of the perks of being the Dean, thought Regina, as she stalked the corridors of the university, shiny heels clacking rhythmically, was that she could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She waltzed into Graham's office without knocking, and he looked up from some paperwork with a warm smile. She immediately felt a rush of heat burn through her. Perhaps the afternoon's preparation for a committee meeting could be put on hold for a while.

"Regina! I'm glad you're here," he said enthusiastically. "We've had the donation from Gold. The library extension can go ahead."

Regina made the appropriate noise of approval as he looked for the paperwork to show her.

"What does he want this time?" she asked. "The library naming after him, I suppose? The man's ego is bigger than this whole damn building."

"He didn't specify," said Graham absently, searching for the relevant piece of paper. "Ah! Here it is. He merely said that he enjoyed the evening on Thursday and that he felt sure that we could go on to have a mutually-beneficial relationship."

Regina frowned. "That's cryptic, even for Gold," she said suspiciously. "Anything else?"

"Well, yes, as it happens," admitted Graham, eyeing her cautiously. He had been unsure whether to tell Regina this next bit of news, but found that he was unable to keep secrets from her. "He – has paid the fees for Belle French's doctorate."

Regina leant on the desk. "_What?"_

Graham waved the piece of paper somewhat lamely. "He came in and said that he wanted to pay her fees upfront. She starts next week. I've asked Professor Short to supervise her."

Regina slowly straightened up, a cold smile curving her lips. "Well, well," she said softly. "It seems I need to have a chat with Mr Gold about our little Miss French."

* * *

Regina paused outside the entrance to Gold's shop, frowning as she considered how best to confront him, then pushed open the door, the small bell above tinkling cheerfully. She curled her lip at the myriad of objects cluttering the shelves. The man was a total hoarder. She would put money on his house being even worse.

"Ms Mills, what an unexpected pleasure." The mocking drawl of his voice pulled her attention to the back of the shop, where he was standing behind the counter, arms spread, hands poised on their fingertips like spiders.

"Gold," she nodded, walking to the counter. She made her hips sway in a manner that she knew was alluring, but he didn't seem to notice. It irked her that he was completely indifferent to her charms; not that she was remotely interested in him, of course. She merely relished the thought of having some sort of power over him.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked quietly, and she smiled coldly.

"You can tell me what you think you're playing at, seducing my staff and paying for their studies behind my back," she said bluntly. He blinked.

"Seducing your staff?" he said, feigning confusion. "I think not. In any event, Miss French is part-time, working sixteen hours for the university, is she not? Therefore the remainder of the week is her own to do with as she pleases."

Regina pursed her lips and leant on the counter, mirroring his pose. "You don't strike me as the type to pay for it," she said dryly, then shrugged. "Having said that, you don't strike me as the type who does it at all."

Gold's eyes glittered with amusement. "Should I be flattered or disturbed that you've given it so much thought?"

Regina scowled, perfectly-manicured brows knitting together. "It's an awful lot of money to get the girl to spread her legs for you, isn't it? Are you really that desperate?"

His fingers tightened slightly in their positions on the counter, and there was a tiny tic by his eye: symptoms of anger, if she'd had the wit to see it. "I'd prefer it if you didn't speak about my employee in that fashion."

"Your _employee?_ Are you serious?" She looked highly amused. "What could she possibly have to offer you, besides the obvious?"

"How about her charming personality and pleasant conversation?" he suggested.

Regina waved a dismissive hand. "Stop stalling. Why are you so interested in her?"

Gold smiled slightly. "Because she has the skills and the knowledge that I need."

"For what?"

The smile widened. "Not telling."

She gave him a narrow look. "Very well," she said at last, sensing that she would get nothing more from him. "All I can say is your time together had better not interfere with her duties to the university."

"But of course." He raised an eyebrow. "Was there anything else?"

"No." She turned to go, before spinning back around to face him. "Did you meet her boyfriend yet?"

Gold's smile was becoming a little glacial. "I can't say I've had the pleasure."

Regina's lips curved upwards. "No doubt you will. I think it's safe to say that, if she has a type, you're not it."

"Then it's a good thing I offered her a job, rather than the sort of torrid, loveless affair you're enjoying with your pet professor," he said mildly, and felt intense satisfaction in her glare of outrage as she stalked from the shop.

* * *

At three minutes to four, Belle hovered on the doorstep of Mr Gold's shop, looking inside furtively. When she couldn't see him, she put her hand on the door handle, pushing the door inwards and jingling the bell hanging above. She took several slow steps into the cool darkness of the shop, her eyes running over the shelves and cabinets. She had never seen so many fascinating objects in her life. Looking upwards, she noticed a beautiful glass mobile, tiny unicorns gently swinging in the air before her. She reached up slowly, taking one of them between thumb and forefinger.

"Glad to see you're on time, Miss French. It bodes well for our working together."

His voice made her jump, and she stepped away from the mobile hurriedly. Gold was standing beside the counter at the back of the shop, hands folded over the handle of his cane, wearing a dark suit and black shirt with a deep blue tie.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully, making his eyebrow twitch. "What was it you wanted?"

He studied her for a moment, then crooked a finger at her and turned around, pushing a curtain aside and walking through to the back room. Belle followed curiously, and found yet more shelves of miscellaneous items, a workbench, a desk and chair, a large spinning wheel that actually had thread spooling from it and, somewhat surprisingly, a narrow single bed.

"Do you sleep here?" she asked, and his eyes flicked across at her.

"On occasion." He crossed to the workbench and lifted up a wooden case. "Gloves, Miss French." He handed her some cotton gloves, and pulled on a pair himself, the material straining somewhat over the ring he wore. Belle drew on the gloves, suddenly excited at what he had for her. He opened up the case, and lifted out what looked like a pile of rolled papers. Examining the top one closely, Belle realised that they were vellum, and appeared to be ancient. Gold opened out the top one carefully, revealing cramped writing and a large wax seal, now faded and broken.

"Where did you get these?" she asked reverently. "They're centuries old. Shouldn't they be in some sort of museum?"

He shrugged. "Knowledge is power. The museum can have them when I'm done with them." He leant on the table and gave her a strange, intense look, his eyes gleaming in the warm light of the lamps. "Impress me."

Slightly nervous at being asked to perform on command, Belle hurriedly looked over the document, picking up the magnifying glass he had placed beside her.

"Well, it's in Latin, as you know," she started, warming to the task as she immersed herself in the document. "Dated 1348, just as the Black Death was starting to sweep through Europe." She read quickly, finding some of the words difficult to make out. "It's a contract to build a – strongroom – I think that is, sort of a vault. The monks of the abbey at Avonleigh – I guess that's somewhere in England – have asked a mason to design and build it, at a rate of eight pence per day, plus four pence for each of his men."

He smiled. "Very well, Miss French, a satisfactory start. And this is your task for this week." He gestured to the case. "This contains assorted documents of various ages from numerous locations. I want a full translation of each."

She grinned up at him. "I'd be delighted. I can't wait to get started."

"Excellent!" His tone was brisk. "Then please, make yourself comfortable. I'll be working on something myself, so I would appreciate it if you kept conversation to a minimum."

"Oh." Belle looked around, biting her lip. "You want me to work here?"

"I won't be letting those documents out of my sight," he explained. "I'm sure you can appreciate their fragility."

"Of course…"

"Very well, please get started." He slid into the chair at his desk, and began reading through a large sheaf of papers. Belle shrugged, pulled paper and pens from her bag, and settled down to read through the documents.

She had not realised how much time had passed, so engrossed was she in her work, and it was only when she heard Gold moving around and smelt the delicious aroma of tea that she felt how late it must be. He placed a tray of tea things on the workbench and began pouring tea from an ornate silver teapot into blue and white porcelain cups. She sat up, stretching, and smiled up at him. He had removed his jacket, and was in his shirtsleeves with a waistcoat over the top.

"It's nine o'clock," he informed her quietly, and Belle let out a yelp, making him start.

"Oh! Ruby will wonder where I am!" She fished out her phone, and saw two messages on it, both from Ruby. One, at five-thirty: _'fancy a quick drink?' _and then another, half an hour ago: _'I won't be home tonight. Don't worry. See you tomorrow'_. She frowned, and quickly texted back _'where are you?'_ Gold raised an eyebrow as he added milk to the cups, and Belle sighed, looking at the phone in hope of a speedy response.

"Ruby's told me she's not coming home tonight," she explained. "I've texted her to ask her where she is, and she hasn't responded yet. Ruby _always_ keeps her phone near her, which either means she's too 'busy' or too embarrassed to tell me what she's up to. Possibly both."

He looked amused. "I see."

Belle stood up, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. She began walking slowly around the room to get some of the life back into her legs, looking at the variety of objects on the shelves. As he stirred the tea in its little porcelain cups, Gold watched her pick up his trinkets, look them over with interest and put them down again. She moved to the shelf above his desk, and he stiffened as she noticed the picture there. Belle looked at it curiously; a young boy laughed up at her, perhaps twelve or thirteen, black hair falling over his eyes, which were a soulful deep brown sparkling with merriment. She looked up.

"Is this your son?" she asked, and he started, turning to look at her with a strange, guarded expression on his face. She could almost see the walls fly up around him, complete with heavily-locked gates and a 'Keep Out' sign, which only made her more curious. He picked up his teacup and leant back against the workbench, drawing the cup to his mouth as though he were hiding behind it.

"Yes." His tone did not invite further questions, so she chose to ignore it.

She smiled instead, pretending that she couldn't see the expression behind his hooded eyes. "He looks like you," she announced. "He's very handsome. Does he live with you?"

Gold grimaced. "No." The word was said with finality, but Belle persisted.

"What, you don't see him at all?"

"I visit him every Sunday," he said, turning away dismissively. "Your tea, Miss French." He held out a cup to her, and she walked towards him, stopping within a few inches of him. She turned so that she was standing next to him, and pulled herself up onto the workbench with the heels of her hands, legs swinging back and forth as she took the cup from him. Gold sipped his tea, carefully not looking at her.

"Do you always work this late?" she asked softly, and he shrugged.

"Sometimes."

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to have a day off now and then," she pointed out, and he shot her a slanting look.

"Is this your way of telling me I'm working you too hard?" he asked stiffly, and she shook her head with a confused smile. There was a moment's silence. Gold sipped his tea. He cursed his sudden inability to make conversation. It had been so easy on the other occasions they had met; he had felt in charge then, she had been on the back foot, but now that she was on his territory, in the one place where he should feel comfortable, he felt insecure and out of his depth. Her asking questions about his personal affairs only added to his discomfort.

"I'd like to meet your son someday, if he should ever come to visit," she said, and he pushed himself up, striding away from the table, from her.

"I think that's highly unlikely," he said aloofly. "Now, Miss French, as it's getting rather late, perhaps you'd allow me to run you home."

Recognising that she was being dismissed for the evening, Belle drained her cup. He drove her home in silence, which became somewhat thick and oppressive as their journey continued. Belle promised to come back the next afternoon, as soon as her classes had finished, and Gold bid her goodnight as he dropped her off, driving back to his house. Entering his study, he poured himself a glass of whisky and tried to go through some more paperwork. There was a case he had recently been instructed on that needed some input on his part, but he was finding it difficult to concentrate. Perhaps having the girl at his shop would prove too much of a distraction. He was reluctant to let the documents she was working on out of his sight, however. Not to mention she was a delectable thing to have seated so near him for hours at a time.

The telephone disturbed his thoughts with its shrill ringing, and Gold eyed it coldly, rolling his whisky glass between long fingers as the amber liquid sloshed gently. He put down the glass and picked up the phone.

"Gold," he said abruptly. There was a moment's silence as he listened to whoever it was that had called him.

"Well, I certainly appreciate the consideration," he said smoothly. "I can assure you that as I no longer have any interest in pursuing such matters myself, I really can't help you." He took another drink as he continued to listen. A slight frown was starting, his eyebrows beginning to contract, making his eyes hawk-like.

"No," he said shortly. "I'm afraid I can't agree to that." More silence. One finger began tapping his desk in thinly-disguised irritation. "Because I said so." He picked up his glass, swirling the whisky within, the lamplight shining through it so that bronze and golden lights danced across the desk. All of a sudden he slammed down the glass, all pretence at good humour gone.

"Let me make something absolutely clear," he snapped. "You may be of some consequence in Boston, but Storybrooke is _my _town, Mr King. I say what goes here, and I have refused your request. I do not propose any further discussion of the matter. Should you persist in your endeavours, if I should receive the slightest indication that you are encroaching on my territory, I will make you curse the first kiss your mother stole from whatever drunken reprobate happened to be your father. Do you understand me? Am I speaking in words of sufficiently few syllables?" Whatever was said to him next made the corners of his mouth turn upwards. "Excellent. Then our business would appear to be concluded, dearie. Rest assured I wish you well in your efforts, as long as they do not affect mine." He put down the phone, tapping fingers together thoughtfully as he considered what he had just heard and how to turn it to his advantage.

* * *

**A/N: Coming up: Gary isn't happy about Belle's deal with Gold, Ruby has regrets she needs to talk over, and Gold experiences dinner at Granny's. **


	5. Iced Tea and Sympathy

**A/N: Thanks to all my new readers who followed and favourited. So glad you're enjoying it. **

**All Hallow's Eve31: one diner scene coming up!**

**Twyla Mercedes: I think that she knows he likes her, but he hasn't made a pass and she's already involved with someone, so she's not doing anything about it other than being her usual pleasant, tactile self (which is freaking him out a bit).**

**RoxyMoron, Wondermorena, JustBFree, Mini Nicka, michelle. 1, spacecats, paulawer, jassy and Lee: thanks so much for your supportive comments, here's your update!**

* * *

Belle had almost reached the university the next morning when Ruby phoned her.

"Where are you?" she asked. "You didn't reply to my text, what's up?"

"I'm on my way to class." Ruby sounded a little subdued. "Listen – can we meet for lunch?"

"Sure," said Belle, wondering what the problem was. "Shall I come to the diner?"

"No!" Ruby said hurriedly. "I don't need a chorus of 'I told you so' from Granny, thank you very much. Can we meet somewhere else?"

Belle thought for a moment. "The uni cafeteria," she said. "It's noisy, no-one will overhear us. The food's not as good as Granny's of course..."

"Don't feel like eating, anyway," said Ruby morosely, which made Belle even more worried.

"So, are you gonna tell me what happened?" she ventured, as she climbed the steps to the university atrium. There was a moment's silence.

"I slept with Viktor," said Ruby in a very small voice.

"_Ruby!"_ whined Belle, and her friend huffed on the other end.

"I know, I know! I'm an idiot!"

Belle sighed. "You're not an idiot," she said gently. "But you know what he's like." Silence. "Look, meet me about one o'clock. I have class until then."

"Okay." Ruby rang off, and Belle shoved her phone in her bag with a scowl. Bloody Viktor! Just because he was a doctor he thought he was too good for Ruby – at least, once he'd had his use of her. Ruby had pined for him for months after their last encounter. He'd chased her for weeks, making her think he was interested in an actual relationship. Once the deed was done, however, he'd been the deliverer of such classic lines as 'it's not you, it's me', 'I just don't feel it would be fair to you for us to start something I'm not one hundred percent committed to' and 'well, is a serious relationship really what you _want _right now?'. Belle wanted to punch him right in the middle of his smug, handsome face. Then knee him in the balls. She wasn't usually a violent person, but she took some pleasure in imagining the look on his face after she rammed her shoe into his crotch. She decided to call Emma and Snow and rant to them about the fickleness of men, and both girls agreed to meet up for lunch to give Viktor a verbal flaying and share Ruby's pain.

* * *

It was approaching one, and Ruby was skulking outside the cafeteria, arms wrapped tight around her chest as though she could protect herself from any further psychological trauma. She felt like kicking herself; she knew what Viktor was like, she knew not to fall for his lines, and still…

"Ruby?" She turned with a start at Archie's voice, and offered him a wobbly smile that immediately made him look concerned.

"Hey, Dr Hopper," she said in subdued tones. The psychology professor looked around briefly, as though seeking assistance from the air, and then smiled back at her.

"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked. "I was about to go in and get some lunch. How about a cup of coffee?"

Ruby gave him a look through narrowed eyes, but seeing nothing but honest concern in his face, nodded agreement and followed him in. She sat at one of the small tables while he fetched the coffees, fidgeting with a loose thread on the sleeve of her sweater. He pushed her cup across the table towards her, and she wrapped her hands around its warmth.

"You seem upset," he said quietly. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Ruby shrugged. "Not really," she admitted. "My friends already know how stupid I've been, I don't need you to know as well."

"From what I hear, you're the first to speak up in class and you always have something important to say," he said gently. "I don't believe that anyone who knows you could think you're stupid."

Ruby huffed. "Yeah, well, sleeping with arrogant assholes with commitment issues isn't something sensible people do."

"I see," said Archie neutrally, after a pause, and she sighed, leaning forwards.

"Okay, here's the thing," she said. "A while back I had a fling with Doctor Whale. He was acting like he was really interested in making a go of things, a real relationship. He said all the right things and – I fell for it. Of course, once he'd had his way it was suddenly 'moving too fast' for him. I spent months pining over him and wondering what I'd done wrong, and then, last night, what did I do?"

"Er…" said Archie nervously. Ruby sat back with an expression of self-disgust.

"I did it again!" she complained. "Even though I _know_ what he's like, I let him convince me that this time would be different. Are you seriously telling me these were the actions of a sensible person?"

Archie took a deep breath, and leant on the table in an attempt to give his words some gravitas. Ruby's mouth was twitching, and she was blinking rapidly, as though she was trying to stop herself from crying. He wanted to take her hand, but it really wasn't appropriate.

"I think that you're a good person, who tries to believe the best in people," he said gently. "I think that you made your decisions based on what you feel in your heart, hoping for a happier outcome than you got. None of that makes you stupid. You are a generous soul who wants to be treated the way she treats others. The fault here isn't yours, Ruby."

Her jaw wobbled slightly, but she smiled at him. "Thank you. I just – I don't know how I'm going to face him again."

Archie thought for a moment. "Well, may I suggest that there's safety in numbers? I know you're hurting right now, and I understand that you don't feel that you can see him. I recommend you talking things over with your friends, so that they can reinforce what I've already said to you. The problem is not with you." Ruby's smile widened a little, and he felt his own mouth turn upwards in response. "Enjoy time with people who make you feel good about yourself," he went on. "And, perhaps sometime soon, maybe next week, for example, you'll be ready to go back out and face him. To let him know that you are still _Ruby_, that you are a wonderful person, and that you are loved."

She was so touched by his words, and the sincerity behind them, that it made her want to cry all over again. She buried her head in her coffee so she wouldn't have to see his face.

"Rubes!" Emma's voice cut through the noise of the cafeteria, and Ruby looked up as Archie pushed his chair back with a smile.

"I'll see you soon, Ruby," he said gently, and she beamed up at him as Emma and Snow descended on her, wrapping her arms around her. Ruby hugged back, thankful for the attention of her girlfriends. Snow pushed backwards, looking over her face worriedly.

"Okay, tell us exactly what he said, and we can kick his ass," she said firmly, and Ruby laughed.

"I feel crappy now," she admitted, hugging Emma, as Belle approached. "But Archie's right, I can't hide my shame away forever. Let's just throw insults at the moron and I'll be fine by next week."

Emma and Snow exchanged glances. "I thought you were seriously in pieces," said Emma, and Ruby grinned.

"Yeah, well, I had some good advice," she said firmly. "I'm too upset to face the asshole today, but I'm planning on getting angry enough to throw a drink over him by next week."

"I could manage it on your behalf this week, if you like," offered Snow, as they sat down.

"So, what did the arrogant asswipe say to you?" asked Emma, and Ruby scowled, taking a drink of her coffee.

"Oh, all the right stuff, of course! How beautiful I was, how he regretted that it hadn't worked out last time – neglecting to mention that it was _him_ that was the problem there – how he noticed that I didn't seem to be in a serious relationship right now…"

"Of course, that statement could be taken in more than one way," nodded Belle. "Manipulative jerk!"

"…how he'd always felt so comfortable talking to me, and how much he wanted to get to know me better," continued Ruby. "It sounds ridiculous when I'm talking to you guys about it, but after several Cosmos I wasn't exactly doing my best thinking."

"He's still an asshole," said Emma bluntly, and the others nodded.

"Is it inappropriate to ask whether he was any good?" asked Snow, with a grin, and Ruby chuckled, slurping her coffee.

"Oh yeah, _that_ was probably the best thing about last night. He's kinda selfish, though, I had to do most of the work."

The girls exchanged disgusted looks, and Ruby reached forwards, grabbing their hands in hers.

"Let's go out," she pleaded. "I need to blow off some steam. Not this week, but maybe next week, when we've all had time to work stuff out and turn up. Thursday night?"

Emma shook her head ruefully. "I'm on duty. It's Mei-Ling's night off – I bet she'd go out though. I'll let her know." Ruby nodded with a grin.

"I have to meet Mr Gold," said Belle, squeezing Ruby's hand. "But I'll come out for a drink or two before he picks me up, if you like."

"I can make it," Snow said with a smile, and Ruby hugged her impulsively.

"Six o'clock in the Rabbit Hole, be there or be – sober!" she declared. "I plan to get wrecked, and if I so much as _breathe_ on a guy, you have to punch me, got it?"

* * *

On Sunday morning, Belle woke slowly as she felt a hand slide beneath the football jersey she was wearing to cup her breast. She shrugged it off, desperate to get some more sleep. The hand moved lower, slipping between her thighs, and she felt stubble scrape the back of her neck as kisses traced across her shoulders. Irritated, and now fully awake, she threw off the covers and slipped from the bed.

"It's early!" complained Gary, stroking his hand across the sheet she had just left. Belle gave him a look.

"Then why wake me? I was having a really nice dream."

"Come back to bed," he said sleepily. "I'll behave, I promise."

Belle grinned then, and bent to kiss his cheek. "I'm going for a run. Do you want me to bring back some coffee?"

He grunted, accepting that he wasn't getting any just then, and rolled over, shoving the pillow over his face.

Belle lost herself in the run, letting her legs stretch out as she pounded the dirt tracks in the woods surrounding Storybrooke. A light rain was falling, which made the ground slippery underfoot, but she managed to do her usual eight-mile circuit without incident, and headed back into town to pick up coffees and doughnuts from Granny's. Sunday was Ruby's day off, but Belle had a pleasant conversation with her grandmother, and with Ashley, a friend of Snow's who had recently given birth and had left the baby with her partner Sean for half an hour of sanity. When Belle returned to the house, both Gary and Ruby were up and dressed, and grateful for their breakfast. Gary had turned on a sports channel, so Belle and Ruby took shelter in the kitchen, eating their doughnuts hungrily.

"So, second date with Gold tomorrow," said Ruby, licking sugar from her fingers and waggling her eyebrows.

"It's not a _date_," said Belle sternly. "I have a meeting with him, that's all."

"If he just wanted a meeting, he could've done that during the day," pointed out Ruby, and Belle frowned. For the first time, she wondered why Gold had specified evening meetings. She suspected that he was a workaholic, perhaps he didn't have any other spare time.

"Any idea where you're going?" asked Ruby, and Belle shrugged.

"He said I could pick. I thought…" Her smile was suddenly mischievous. "I thought I might take him to Granny's."

Ruby giggled. "Oh! That would be _priceless_. He comes in for coffee, but he's never eaten there. Definitely do that. I promise not to throw any food on him."

Belle grinned. "I have a feeling he may regret agreeing to changing the terms of my contract."

Ruby took a drink of coffee. "How did Gary react when you told him?"

Belle wrinkled her nose. "Not happy. He thinks Gold's trying to get in my pants."

"Really?" Ruby shrugged. "Who knew Gary could be so insightful?"

Belle gave her a level look. "Anyway, I had to spend most of last night trying to convince him that I'm not being swept off my feet."

"Hmm," Ruby said non-committedly, popping the last piece of doughnut into her mouth. "Insecurity makes men act like morons."

Belle sighed, and drank her coffee. She could hear Gary approaching the kitchen from behind her, and Ruby looked up as he entered.

"So, you're not too happy about Belle going to dinner with Gold, then?" she said bluntly, and he scowled, folding huge arms across his chest.

"I don't see why he can't just talk to her during the day like everyone else," he said crossly, and Belle rolled her eyes.

"I don't turn into some giddy, naïve bimbo when the sun goes down!" she snapped.

"You should have talked to me before you agreed to this, anyway," he said sulkily, sounding as though he had made this point before. "We hardly see each other as it is, and now you're spending two evenings a week on a date with some other guy."

"It's not a _date_," protested Belle. "It's _work! _It means I get my doctorate paid for. You should be pleased for me."

"Yeah, more reading," he grumbled. "Great. Then you tell me you can't come and watch me play football because you're _working_. As far as I can see all this deal means is that Gold will spend more time with you than I will."

Belle shrugged, looking as though she was tired of the whole conversation. "He pays the bills, so he wants his money's worth, that's all."

"Well, I'm going to talk to him," declared Gary decidedly. Ruby hid her grin behind her coffee cup as Belle's eyes widened.

"What do you mean, you're going to _talk_ to him?" she demanded. "What are you planning on saying, exactly?"

Gary bristled. "I'm gonna tell him to keep his hands to himself, that's what!"

Belle groaned, letting her head fall onto her folded arms. "Gary! You don't need to do that! Please – just – let it go!"

"I don't advise confronting Gold either," put in Ruby. "He doesn't react well to threats. You could find yourself with an eviction notice."

Gary hesitated. "Well, maybe I won't be quite so direct," he allowed.

"Because subtlety's always been a watchword of yours," agreed Ruby, eyes twinkling. Belle shot her a look, but Gary didn't appear to have noticed the sarcasm.

"I'll just let him know that I've got my eye on him," he announced, and Belle felt like groaning again. There was no way this could end well.

* * *

At precisely seven the next evening, Belle pushed open the door to the shop and trotted to the counter, where Gold was leaning with a small smile on his face as he looked her over.

"So, Miss French," he said pleasantly. "What delights do you have in store for me this evening?"

She leant her elbows on the counter, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm taking you to Granny's," she said simply.

The jerk of an eyebrow was the only indication of the surprise he felt at her words. The silence was deafening, then, after a long moment: "I'm sorry?"

"Granny's," she repeated patiently. "You said I got to choose, so I've chosen. We go to Granny's, have some good, honest food and talk about the work I've done."

Gold looked as though he was undergoing some sort of internal struggle, but he finally composed himself and smiled at her.

"Very well," he said, at last, a glint in his eye. "I presume reservations are unnecessary?"

"Now you're just being an ass," she said severely, and he chuckled softly, stepping out from behind the counter.

"After you, Miss French."

She linked her arm through his as they walked, causing him to look at her out of the corner of his eye, but Belle seemed oblivious as she chatted about one of the translations she was having difficulty with. Gold suggested photographing the scroll and enlarging the image, which she agreed would be helpful. As they reached Granny's, Belle pushed open the door to the diner and led him into the warm interior, unwinding the scarf from around her neck. There was a pleasant buzz of conversation from the occupants, which stopped so suddenly it was as though a switch had been flicked. The diners stared at them, or more accurately at Gold; Leroy, one of the security staff at the university, was seated at the bar with his friends Tom and Walter, his mouth slightly open. Ashley dropped a spoon on her plate with a clinking sound that seemed to echo around the silent room. Belle could feel herself reddening under the scrutiny of the townsfolk.

"I guess you don't come in here too often," she murmured, turning to face Gold. His mouth stretched in a particularly nasty smile.

"I try not to make a habit of it," he said dryly, and raised his voice. "The last person to disengage their stare will be the lucky winner of a complimentary rent increase."

There was a loud, swishing sound as the occupants of the diner hurriedly turned away. Gold smirked, and Belle rolled her eyes.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" she muttered, and grabbed his hand, pulling him to a table out of the way. His eyebrows jerked upwards in surprise at the contact, but he recovered quickly, taking her coat as she shrugged out of it. He sat facing the door, and she was still a little flushed as she slid into the seat across from him.

"So, now you've terrorised the local populace, what would you like to order?" she asked sweetly, and he shrugged, spreading his hands.

"The menu is laminated," he said distastefully, as though that explained everything.

She sighed. "Meaning?"

He gave her a crooked little smile. "This cosy eatery was your idea, Miss French, I suggest you take the lead on this one. I am entirely within your hands." His eyebrows twitched suggestively.

"Fine." Belle glanced up as Granny approached, her brows somewhat lowered as she looked Gold over through the glasses perched on her nose. "Two burgers, two iced teas, please, Granny."

"I don't want a burger," said Gold automatically, and Belle gave him a level look.

"Tough. You wanted me to take the lead, remember? Trust me, they're really good."

He looked unconvinced, but Belle nodded to Granny without waiting for him to respond.

"Coming right up," said Granny, as she tapped her pen on her pad, looking amused. Belle sat back with a small sigh and watched him running his eyes over everyone else in the diner. Suddenly he frowned and stood up, gripping his cane with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, Miss French, there's a spot of business I need to attend to," he said, striding after Walter, who had just left the diner. He moved very quickly for a man with a limp. Walter had been attempting to make himself unobtrusive in his exit, but Gold swept in front of him in the street outside, causing the other man to start in surprise. Gold had a dark glint in his eyes as he began to speak, silenced by the glass door but fully visible, and Belle groaned inwardly.

"Seriously, a date with _Gold_?" Leroy's voice made her jump, and she looked up at him with a sort of grim resignation. "What's up with that, sister? You owe him money?"

"It's not a _date_," said Belle patiently, for what felt like the hundredth time. "He's – kind of my boss."

Leroy winced. "Jeez, I thought you had more sense than to get mixed up with him. Look at him laying into Walter." They both watched as Gold appeared to be haranguing Walter, gesturing emphatically as he spoke.

"What's the problem?" asked Belle, and Leroy shrugged.

"He's behind on his rent," he said. "He'll pay it, Gold just needs to give him a couple of days."

Belle privately thought that if Walter was having money troubles and wanted Gold to be sympathetic he probably shouldn't be out drinking beers with his friends, but she said nothing. Leroy made himself scarce as Gold returned.

"My apologies for that little distraction," he said dismissively. "When it comes to dealing with non-paying tenants I find it pays to take a proactive approach."

Belle sighed. "I'm beginning to think I should have written a clause into our contract that says you're not allowed to harass anyone when you and I are having dinner."

His eyes sparked with interest at the mention of a deal to be made. "Ah, I see. You wish to include an extra obligation in our agreement? And what would you be prepared to offer me in return, pray tell?"

Belle gave him a flat look. "I'm not falling for that one. Chase your debtors all you like."

He inclined his head as though she had made some sort of gracious concession, and then his eyes jerked upwards, brows contracting slightly.

"Hey, Belle," said Emma from behind her. Belle turned with a smile, and Emma looked amused as she ran her eyes over the pair of them. "Have to say I'm surprised to see you in here, Gold. I always thought you lived on adrenaline and rage."

"And yet, you've seen me purchase coffee on numerous occasions," he said smoothly, and she chuckled as she handed Granny some money.

"My mistake. Adrenaline, _caffeine_ and rage."

"All the food groups," agreed Belle, with a giggle. He shot her a look, which only made her giggle more. Emma rolled her eyes.

"I do eat, Miss Swan," he said dryly, and Emma barked a laugh.

"I bet. You all out of the hearts of murdered infants at home, or something?"

"Don't you have some sort of pointless police work to be doing?" he said thinly, and she shrugged.

"Yeah, but annoying you is _so_ much more fun."

He chose to ignore that comment, and Belle shot Emma a pleading look. The blonde woman winked at her and picked up two coffees to go.

"See you later, Belle. Enjoy your date."

"It's not a _date_!" Belle called after her. Emma waved a dismissive hand as she left, and Belle turned back to Gold with a sigh, to see him eyeing her with interest.

"I'm beginning to think it was a bad idea to come here," grumbled Belle. Gold smirked, wagging a long finger at her.

"I'd like you to hold that thought in your mind the next time you decide to pick a venue for our meeting," he suggested, and she sent him an amused glare.

"Okay, admittedly if we'd gone to one of your swanky places we wouldn't have to put up with being the latest topic of conversation for the Storybrooke gossips," she acknowledged.

He smirked. "I assure you, Miss French, if the gossipmongers wish to involve us in some far-fetched tale of wanton debauchery, I would be honoured to be the unwitting participant."

She chuckled. "I'm not too keen on fantasies, myself. If I'm going to be the target of the town's grapevine I'd rather deserve it."

"Indeed?" He quirked his eyebrows at her, leaning on the table with his chin resting on his laced fingers, and she blushed a little.

"I – um. I mean…"

"Belle, should I get another knife?" asked Ruby brightly, as she placed their iced teas in front of them. Belle stared at her, looking confused.

"Er – why?"

Ruby grinned. "Thought you two might want me to cut through the sexual tension," she announced cheerfully, and span away once more, leaving Belle blushing and Gold smirking.

"Well, there goes her tip," he said mildly. Belle frowned at him.

"We're tipping Ruby," she said firmly, and he smiled.

"I'm not at all sure I'm happy with the service I've received," he said.

"Yes, well, this is my turn to pay," Belle reminded him. "So I'm also responsible for the tip. You don't get a say."

"Really?" he asked, grinning at her. "And how do you figure that out? This is as much my evening as it is yours. Should I have no input into the assessment of the waitress's dubious customer service skills?"

"It's not provided for in the contract," she said, pointing an accusing finger at him, and he showed his teeth.

"Then the term is implied," he suggested, and she gave him an amused look.

"No it's not," she said scathingly. "Give it up, Mr Gold, you're not winning this one."

He burst out laughing then, and the diner fell silent once more as the customers shot surreptitious looks at the teacher and the pawnbroker who seemed, against all the odds, to be enjoying one another's company.

"Anyway, let me show you what I've done so far." Belle pulled her laptop from her bag and turned it on, noting his interested look. She opened up the typed translations and passed the computer to him, watching him scan the documents, eyes flicking back and forth across the screen.

"A lot of building work," he remarked, and she nodded.

"Yes, in addition to the vault, there was a new chapel built over the top of it. The document I'm having trouble reading is connected with it." She took a sip of her iced tea, which was as good as always. "That particular document – I think it might actually be a letter from the Pope, of all people! I hope we can make it a bit more legible with the photograph."

He looked interested. "A letter from the Pope? I thought this was a small monastery."

Belle nodded. "It was, that's the thing. I'm interested to see what this is about, if it warranted a letter from the man at the top."

Gold ran a thoughtful finger over his lips, and bent to read the on-screen translations again.

"We'll take the photographs tomorrow, if you're available," he decided. "And there are still numerous documents to go through. It's certainly interesting."

Belle nodded. "I won't be able to stay too late," she said apologetically. "I have lesson planning to do – I usually do it in the evenings, but what with the work I've been doing for you, I haven't had the time. I have Wednesday morning free though, if you're happy for me to come over then?"

Gold nodded, still reading.

"Okay, two burgers," said Ruby brightly, hovering by Belle's side. Belle grabbed the laptop and shoved it back in her bag as Ruby put the plates down. Gold was looking over his burger, lifting the top of the bun as though he expected it to be poisoned. Belle watched, amused, as he pulled a paper towel from its metal holder and attempted to spread it across his lap, with limited success.

"I'd like to express my displeasure at eating in an establishment that believes small paper napkins are an indication of quality," he said.

Belle shot him a wry look. "Duly noted. Eat your damn burger."

His eyes twinkled at that, and, having spread five or six napkins over himself, picked up his burger with a dubious expression. Belle watched as he took a bite and a look of surprise flitted across his face.

"Told you," she said smugly, and his eyes smiled at her as he chewed. There was a comfortable silence as they ate and drank. When Ruby had cleared away the plates, and they had both passed on dessert, Belle slid into the seat next to Gold and opened up the laptop again. They spent the next hour going through the translated documents in detail, Belle explaining some of the context from her knowledge of writings of the same period. The diner was almost empty by the time they had made their way through all of the pages, and as Ruby started wiping down tables, Belle was suddenly aware of her leg pressed against Gold's, and the heat of his body close to hers, his head mere inches from hers as they looked at the computer screen. He looked up at her at that moment, his eyes dark in the dimmed lights of the diner. She felt a strange thump in the midst of her chest, and moved away from him with a small gasp. He straightened up, a small, self-deprecating smile on his face, and turned off the computer.

"Well, this has certainly been an experience, Miss French," he said easily. "I trust that we can continue our discussion tomorrow."

Belle nodded, with a smile. "I'll be there after class," she promised, and his smile widened ever so slightly.

* * *

**A/N: I haven't yet decided what Gold's first name should be, so if you have a preference, please PM me.**

**Coming up: Gary confronts Gold, and Gold and Belle have an argument (love it!) **


	6. Honesty is Not the Best Policy

**A/N: I'm sorry to say that I still don't own Once Upon a Time (sigh). **

**I was aiming to finish the update by this weekend, but I've been so blown away by all the kind reviews from you people that I was inspired to get it up earlier. Thanks to all my new readers who followed and favourited. So glad you're enjoying it. **

**JustBFree: I'm glad you liked the portrayal of Gary – I can understand why he'd be annoyed about the whole thing. **

**Erik'sTrueAngel: no updates on Gold's business interests yet, but there will be more on this at some point. So glad you're enjoying it.**

**Spacecats: there will be more Ruby and Archie, but not yet…**

**Cheesyteal'c, Mini Nicka, Wondermorena, michelle. 1, anna4bates, Twyla Mercedes: thanks so much for your support – here's your update!**

* * *

"So, how are you feeling?" asked Belle, as she and Ruby headed for their lunchtime spin class the next day. Ruby shrugged, pulling a face.

"Better," she admitted. "Less like killing the entire male population of Storybrooke and more like dancing my cares away."

Belle chuckled as they entered the university gym. "Don't hold back if you see Viktor on Thursday and feel an overwhelming urge to throw a drink at his crotch."

"I'll ask Snow, her aim's better," said Ruby, with a wink.

"Spinning will do you good," said Belle. "A massive surge of endorphins, without any involvement from a guy. What's not to like?" Ruby giggled.

"Belle!" Gary's voice boomed across the gym, and Belle looked over with a smile. He was sitting on the bench-press machine, flexing his muscles and taking sneaky looks at himself in the mirror in front of him. There were three girls – in their first or second year, Belle thought – standing near him. She saw the same three whenever she came to spin class, and they were always hanging around her boyfriend, casting him admiring looks and batting their eyelashes. Belle thought that they looked like clones of one another; although they were clearly unrelated they had the same dyed blonde hair, cut in the same style, fake tan, full make-up and clothes that were more suited to a nightclub than a gym. Ruby had cheekily dubbed them 'the Gazettes'. Belle walked over and bent to kiss Gary, causing the girls to scowl at her.

"How's it going?" she asked, and he preened.

"I just set a personal best on the press," he said, with satisfaction. "Will I see you after your class? I could show you those leg exercise I was talking about."

Belle shook her head. "I have to teach this afternoon, so time's pretty tight," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow though."

He kissed her again, pulling her against him possessively. The Gazettes wandered off in search of easier prey, shooting venomous looks at Belle that made Ruby giggle.

"If looks could kill…" she said with satisfaction, as she and Belle made their way into the spin class.

* * *

Belle spent Tuesday and Wednesday desperately trying to cram in some research alongside the lesson-planning she had to do and the work she was doing for Gold. She was due to meet her PhD supervisor the next week and wanted to ensure that she was prepared. As such, Gary had been annoyed on Wednesday evening to learn that she wanted to read over some of her papers in favour of watching the movie he had suggested. She tried to make it up to him afterwards in the best way she knew, and as a result he was somewhat mollified by the time they went to sleep. He had agreed to pick her up the next evening and go for a drink or two, before she met with Gold and he had his usual Thursday night out with his roommates.

Belle had arranged to meet her friends at the Rabbit Hole, the only club in Storybrooke, and she had phoned Gold earlier in the day to ask him to pick her up from there. Her request had been greeted by a long moment of silence, followed by a quiet "as you wish", then he had rung off. She wasn't entirely sure what he had against the place, but as none of her friends could recall ever seeing him in there unless he was collecting rent, she guessed it wasn't his favourite venue.

Gary had had his arm curled around her waist all the way to the club, and seemed increasingly reluctant to let her go. It was starting to irritate her, and she extricated herself from his grip as they entered the club, making the excuse that she needed the bathroom. Ruby and Snow came trotting over and swept her along with them as Gary made his way to the bar, shouldering smaller men aside. Belle rolled her eyes. Given his mood, she hoped that he would decide not to talk to Gold after all.

"Mei-Ling's here," announced Ruby, as she reapplied her lipstick in the bathroom mirror. "You know she started dating that girl Aurora last month and we haven't seen her since? You should see the pair of them! I'm surprised the entire male population of Storybrooke wasn't hanging around our table."

"What is it about guys and lesbians?" wondered Snow aloud, and Belle shrugged.

"Maybe they like a challenge? Who else is out?"

"Shane and Brody came to hang out with Gary," said Ruby with a shrug. "Usual story. Nice biceps, but not much to say for themselves." Belle chuckled.

"So, where's Gold taking you tonight?" asked Snow, and Belle shrugged as she checked her hair was still reasonably well-tamed.

"That Italian that's out of town, I think."

"Oooh, that's lovely!" whispered Snow. "I've been…" She suddenly snapped her mouth shut, and Ruby looked at her curiously.

"What?" she asked, and Snow looked oddly guilty.

"You know what, I can't remember," she said in a muddled voice. "Hey! Let's get cocktails!"

Belle and Ruby shared a puzzled glance, but let Snow pull them from the bathroom. Once they were back at the table with the others, Belle was introduced to Aurora. She was a very pretty, delicate looking young woman, with long brown hair and pale skin. She was clad in a lavender chiffon dress and long silver earrings, very different to Mei-Ling's trademark black jeans, chunky boots and tight black sweater. Belle hugged the Chinese woman and shook Aurora's hand, taking her glass of wine from Gary with a grateful smile. He pulled her down next to him possessively, making her spill a little of her drink and share a frown with Ruby. Mei-Ling had gone back to kissing Aurora while trying to take part in the conversation, the two of them giggling and nuzzling at one another, and Belle and Ruby smirked and rolled their eyes as they tried with limited success to get Mei-Ling to respond to questions. The men seated near them pretended not to be watching, while taking sneaky looks whenever they thought they were unobserved. Shane, one of Gary's roommates, had kissed Belle's hand, which she hadn't appreciated, and then Gary clapped him on the shoulder in an overly-hearty manner, nearly breaking his collar-bone in the process. The three men clustered together after that; Gary launched into a story about that day's football practice, which Belle had already heard and had no desire to hear again, but his two friends seemed interested. Belle kept sneaking looks at her watch, knowing that Gold would be bang on time. Gary frowned at her whenever he noticed her doing it, so after a while she stopped and started a conversation with Snow about what they were planning to do that weekend. She was getting steadily more nervous as the evening wore on, and she couldn't quite decide why that was. On the third occasion that Snow had to repeat a question she had asked with no response from Belle, Snow clasped her hand and gave her a strangely sympathetic, insightful look.

"Belle!" Ruby's voice was an urgent whisper. "He's here!"

Belle looked up and saw Gold standing in the entrance, looking around with an expression of distaste. Butterflies swirling in her stomach, she scrambled to her feet and trotted over, feeling Gary's eyes on her back. Gold smiled slightly as he looked her up and down.

"You look lovely tonight, Miss French," he said quietly. "Shall we?" He offered his arm, and Belle bit her lip. He dropped it again, frowning slightly. "What is it?"

"My boyfriend wants to meet you," she blurted, and the frown deepened.

"No."

She blinked. "No? Just 'no'?"

"I don't recall socialising with your acquaintances being part of our deal," he said impatiently. "So, yes. Just 'no'."

"He's my boyfriend," she complained.

"Well, he certainly isn't mine." He turned away from her, and she put her hand on his arm, making him spin slowly back towards her.

"Please! He just wants to make sure you're not going to – um…" she faltered, and his expression cleared.

"Ah, I see. He wants to ensure I have no designs on you." He sighed. "As this is cutting into our time together I will expect our evening appointment to extend by an equal amount of time, dearie."

She grinned. "I promise. Wait a minute." She tripped across the room in her high heels, her pale, shapely legs displayed to advantage below the flared black dress. He thought absently of how they would feel wrapped around his waist, and gave himself a mental shake as she returned, towing a tall hunk of muscle and hormones in her wake. Gold restrained himself from curling his lip with difficulty. He'd expected better. He'd at least expected intelligence. He was surprised this oaf could remember to put his trousers on before his shoes without a sign on the wall to remind him. He was certainly handsome though. And tall. And built like a footballer, just as Jefferson had said. Insecurity flowed through Gold, rising in his throat like bile. There was no way he could maintain politeness with this man for more than five minutes.

"This is Gary Stone," announced Belle, as the idiot stuck out his hand. "Gaz, this is Mr Gold."

"A pleasure," drawled Gold, as he grasped the thick, hot palm and released it quickly.

"Gary's a personal trainer," she went on, as though she was expecting them to have some sort of conversation. "Gaz, Mr Gold is – well, you know."

"I coach football and work at the university gym," said Gary proudly, drawing himself up to his full height and folding massive arms across his impressive chest in his usual attempt to intimidate. "Don't think I've ever seen you there, Mr Gold."

Gold showed his teeth, clenching the handle of his cane. "Well, I'm really more of a marathon runner, as you can see."

"Oh? Cool. I'm a sprinter, myself. You need some serious power in your legs for that," Gary continued, slapping a muscular thigh, seemingly oblivious to sarcasm. "I could show you some really cool running trails around the town, if you like."

"That will be unnecessary, thank you." Gold shot Belle a look that said _seriously? You and him?_ She blushed. Belle looked like a tiny doll next to her giant of a boyfriend. How did that even _work?_ Actually, he didn't want to think about it.

"Gaz, we have to go, so if there's nothing else..?" Belle said a little nervously, and her boyfriend nodded hurriedly as though he'd just remembered what he was doing. No doubt that was true.

"Mr Gold, before you take Belle to dinner, I – I just wanted to make it clear that…" Gary began, and Gold grimaced.

"Yes, I know," he said calmly. "You want to make sure I am not attracted to your girlfriend, that I'm not going to try to touch her, kiss her, _et cetera_. Well, let me assure you, Mr Stone, that as I'm neither gay nor a eunuch, of course I'm attracted to her. Miss French is a beautiful, intelligent woman with whom I foresee having many hours of pleasant and – stimulating company."

Belle closed her eyes as Gary's own widened.

"I will of course respect her wishes not to be in any way molested by me and will not make any advances towards her without her consent, which I am given to understand is not currently forthcoming."

Belle almost groaned. _This can't be happening!_ She wasn't convinced that Gary understood exactly what was being said, but he certainly got the gist.

"Furthermore," added Gold. "Be in no doubt that should I detect for a second that her feelings towards me have changed, I will pursue her _relentlessly_." He drew out the word in a lengthy hiss, smiled widely, and turned to Belle. "There! I believe my obligations are fulfilled. Shall we?" He turned on his heel and limped towards the door.

"Wait!" spluttered Gary, not used to being ignored and clearly feeling as though he ought to take more pains to stake his claim. Gold turned, his expression curious.

"Yes, dearie, did you have something to say?"

"Belle is mine!" snapped Gary possessively. "You keep your perverted old hands off her!"

Belle's eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Gold noticed.

"You clearly had some difficulty in processing what I just said," he drawled. "I will not touch Miss French until she gives me leave so to do."

"She's not going with you! I forbid it!"

"_What?"_ Belle faced him, arms folded beneath her breasts and her brows drawn down in fury. "I don't need your _permission_!"

Gary looked at her pleadingly. "Belle, you heard what he said…"

"I heard him trying to piss you off!" she snapped. "Successfully, it appears!"

Gold put his head to the side and looked Gary up and down. "You're not what I expected, I must confess," he admitted. "What exactly do you two have in common?"

"I love her!" blurted Gary, and Belle rolled her eyes. Gold snickered.

"Really? What is it that you love about her?" His voice was curious, and Gary hesitated. Gold smiled thinly.

"I see," he said lightly, and the taller man scowled.

"Belle – she's gorgeous. The most beautiful girl in town."

"Congratulations for having eyes," said Gold dryly.

"And she's not afraid of anything!" Gary continued. "She doesn't care what anyone thinks of her." He looked at his feet. "I mean, sometimes I wish she'd take a bit more interest in some of the things _I_ do, be a bit more _normal_, but I guess there's time for that, once she's got the whole study thing out of her system and settled down properly." Belle was looking at him incredulously, but he continued, oblivious. "She's…" He cut off as Gold waved a dismissive hand.

"Enough, our reservation is for eight and we'll miss it if I have to listen to any more of this garbage. Miss French?" He began striding towards the door.

Gary was opening and closing his mouth, and Belle rolled her eyes, pecking him on the cheek.

"I'll call you later," she whispered, and followed Gold out of the bar, leaving her friends pop-eyed and whispering.

* * *

Belle caught him up outside the bar, grabbing his arm and spinning him to face her.

"Why did you say that?" she blurted, and he shrugged.

"Because I like people to know exactly where they stand with me," he said simply. Belle opened her mouth, closed it again, and looked a little confused. She was not entirely sure what to do with the information she had just heard. She had guessed that he was interested in her, but she had presumed that he wouldn't be quite so blatant about letting her and the rest of her acquaintances know it. She noticed that he was watching her with a small, amused smile on his face.

"What?" she asked nervously, and he shrugged slightly, rolling his eyes.

"You continue to fascinate and confound me, Miss French," he drawled.

She eyed him warily. "Oh?"

He smirked. "Indeed. I can only assume that you lost a fairly sizeable bet."

Belle's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "No."

His face cleared. "Ah, I see. Then you are attempting to _win _a fairly sizeable bet."

She frowned. "I'm not following you." She was very much afraid that she _was_. His mouth twitched.

"Well, based on the evidence provided it's the only rational explanation I can think of for your current relationship, unless of course you're engaged in some sort of elaborate sociological experiment." His free hand twirled in theatrical gestures.

Belle's frown deepened, and she put her fists on her hips. "Don't be so mean. He's – sweet." It sounded lame even to her, and he gave her a very level look.

"Sweet…" He drew out the word, letting it hang in the air between them, like an insult.

She flushed. "I don't really see that it's any of your business, anyway," she said defiantly, and he huffed slightly.

"Quite right," he agreed, with the ghost of a smile. "Perhaps we should concentrate on more important things." He strode to the car and opened the door for her. "After you."

* * *

They were silent on the way to the restaurant, both deep in their own thoughts. When they had ordered their meal, and wine had been poured, Belle seemed to relax a little. The restaurant was lovely, small round tables with crisp white cloths and candles adding to the soft light. Belle had looked around appreciatively and Gold had watched her, the light from the candles making her skin a creamy translucent shade and picking out coppery highlights in her hair. She looked stunningly beautiful, and he wished that he hadn't agreed to talk to her oaf of a boyfriend. It had put him in a foul mood. Attempting to make conversation, Gold asked her questions about the documents he had given her. She launched into a description of what she had discovered; the documents she had read so far were from the same monastery in Avonleigh, and all were connected with the building of the vault. One had particularly intrigued her; it was a letter written by the bishop of Umberleigh, a neighbouring town, to the prior, promising funds to ensure that the vault was of sufficiently sturdy construction. Belle was hoping that at some point she would discover what was to be kept there that was so important. She surmised that it must be precious relics, perhaps the bones of a saint, or jewelled reliquaries. The letter from the Pope had been equally intriguing; it spoke of a visit by a Cardinal Zoso to the monastery, and the Pope's wish that the cardinal be treated with all courtesy and allowed access to anything he should desire. Belle thought that this supported the notion that holy relics were kept at the monastery. The conversation was polite, and he was clearly interested in what she had to say, but he was distant, and given his earlier declaration of his interest in her, Belle couldn't understand why. She tried to draw him out with questions about the origin of the documents she had been working on, and how he had come to possess them. He answered in brief sentences, and she gave up. It was a relief when their food arrived, and when they had finished eating and the plates had been cleared, she tried to get to the bottom of whatever it was that was troubling him.

"You don't seem yourself tonight," she ventured, and he tapped his fingertips together as he watched her.

"I'm perfectly well, Miss French, thank you," he said stiffly. He was aware that he was allowing his insecurities to make him act like an idiot, but couldn't seem to help himself.

"You know, you can call me Belle," she pointed out. "It _is_ my name, I won't be offended."

He simply smiled at her, and impulsively she reached across the table and took his hand, making him start and look down at her fingers curling around his as though she was trying to stab him.

"Do you have a first name, Mr Gold?" she asked playfully, tipping her head to the side.

"Of course," he said, feeling uncertain as to where this was heading and not liking it in the slightest. Her smile was soft and inviting. No doubt the same smile she used to wrap that Neanderthal boyfriend around her finger when she could get him to stop talking about himself long enough. Was that _seriously_ what attracted her? If so, Regina had been right; he was most certainly not her type. Which made him all the more suspicious of her motives.

"Would you like to tell me it?" she asked, her eyes gleaming a beautiful clear blue, and he slowly sat back, pulling away from her, wearing his arrogance like a shield.

"Not especially, Miss French," he said coldly. "What game are we playing here, may I ask?"

She sat up, eyes narrowing. "I asked your name, that's all."

"I see," he said lightly. "Because you want to get to know me, no doubt."

"That's right," she said, blinking with confusion.

"And what is your ultimate goal, pray tell?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft, his eyes glinting with a light Belle hadn't seen in them before. "Do you think I'll change my mind about any of the terms we agreed on just because you bat your eyelashes at me?"

Belle flushed, partly from anger. "No! I wasn't even thinking…"

He pointed a long finger at her, his expression sharp. "Don't think you can alter any part of our agreement, dearie. No-one breaks deals with me, do you understand?"

Belle's mouth flattened, her brows drawing down. "I have no intention of breaking our agreement," she said sharply. "I gave you my word and I'll keep it. There's no need to be nasty about it."

He sat back a little, his face carefully neutral, and there was a moment of awkward silence. She was glowering at him, but she also looked a little upset, and he realised that he had misjudged her. He was unused to misreading people.

"My apologies," he said at last. "I assumed you were after something more than we had agreed upon. I think the terms were quite generous enough."

"As do I," she said coolly. "I want nothing more from you, so you can come down off your high horse. I know you're not really as bad as everyone thinks you are, or as you pretend to be."

He gave her a small, crooked smile at that, and watched her for a few moments, peeling twenty-dollar notes off a roll he had pulled from his inside pocket to pay for the meal. Not looking at him, Belle took a mouthful of wine to give herself something to do, savouring the heady flavours of black cherries and spice, the deep red liquid warming her throat as she swallowed.

"Have you ever asked yourself why I am not well-liked in this town?" he asked suddenly.

Belle cleared her throat, smoothing her dress with her hands. "I presume it's because you can be a bit of an arsehole and you go to the _nth_ degree to push people away," she said, innocently.

"Perhaps I merely think they have nothing to offer," he countered, with an offhand gesture.

"That's a very cynical view of the world," she said, frowning. "Can't two people sit and talk without there being some ulterior motive behind it all?"

"Not when one of those people is me," he almost hissed, and she shook her head.

"Don't you get tired of assuming everyone is out to cheat you or lie to you?" she asked curiously, and he smirked.

"Means I'm rarely disappointed in the human condition," he said quietly. "People are so predictably self-centred, don't you think?"

"I think how terribly lonely you must be," she said softly, her eyes dark with sadness, and his lips twitched in surprise. He rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, forefinger stroking back and forth over his lips as he watched her, his face inscrutable. Emboldened by his silence, she leant forwards, threading her fingers together.

"I'm sure there's a reason behind it all," she began. "No doubt there's some dark part of your past in which you were badly hurt and you don't want to let anyone in, but…"

"Am I paying for this psychoanalysis, Miss French?" The question was asked mildly, but his voice was the distant, slightly bored drawl of the businessman. He had closed himself off. She sat back, stung by his sudden aloofness.

"I'm just trying…"

"I know what you're trying," he said shortly, and took a gulp of his wine, not looking at her.

"I think if you could just start to trust someone…"

"No-one trusts _me_," he said, with a twisted smile.

"I trust you." He opened his mouth for a stinging retort, and closed it again as he looked at her. She had said the words clearly, without a hint of guile, and her eyes were large and wide, filled with light and goodness. He grimaced.

"Perhaps you shouldn't," he muttered. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't believe you could," she said simply, and he barked a laugh.

"Miss French, for an intelligent woman you can be remarkably dense."

She flushed and squared her jaw, but didn't back down.

"I trust you because I know you don't break deals," she explained. "You always keep your word. That makes you an honourable man, even if you don't think you're a good one."

He took a swallow of wine, looking suddenly weary. "Enough," he said quietly. "Enough of me, let's talk about you."

Belle frowned a little. "What about me?"

"Well, you clearly have issues of your own that you need to work through," he offered, refilling their glasses. "Someone as intelligent as yourself should not act as you do."

Belle bristled. "What's wrong with the way I act?"

"Only this, dearie; that you are clearly desperate to please and at the same time, you have an inbuilt urge to rebel. I'm guessing there are parental issues. It's usually the father, but I'd say in your case, it's your mother. Nothing you do will ever be good enough, and so you keep making these pathetic attempts at rebellion while telling yourself you're following your own dreams." His eyes were suddenly gleaming with mischief; his voice had taken on a taunting lilt, and she reddened.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He sat back, lacing his fingers together and flicking his hair out of his eyes. "Well, let's consider your career. I imagine your dear mother wasn't too keen when you told her you wanted to teach and study for the rest of your life, when with your intelligence you could have been earning enough to keep the entire family comfortable on your own." He eyed her intently, and Belle tried not to let the shock show on her face. He smiled knowingly. "Then there's your relationship, of course." He shook his head sadly. "_Such_ a disappointment to your poor mother, but sufficiently innocuous for you to convince yourself you're doing what _you_ want. Not enough for you to be happy, however. I would guess that's why you've never taken it beyond two nights a week. Even your rebellious streak won't push you into that much self-abuse."

"You don't know a _thing_ about my relationship!" spluttered Belle, drawing herself up in indignation, and he shrugged as though bored by the whole conversation.

"Please, dearie, you're like an open book." He picked up his glass and swirled the wine inside, looking through the crimson liquid at the candle before him, ruby light glancing back and forth with the motion.

"Okay, if I'm so transparent why don't you tell me all about it?" demanded Belle, irritated. He took a swallow of wine, rolling it around his mouth, and sat back in his seat, stroking his lip thoughtfully.

"Very well," he agreed. "I imagine that the two of you met in college – possibly the year you joined, but I doubt that. I suspect you wanted no distractions in the first couple of years you were there as you wanted to get your head down to some serious study." He was eyeing her for some indication as to the accuracy of his assessment; Belle refused to give him the satisfaction. "I'm guessing he got a sports scholarship and was flunking one of his options, and you were there to provide some tutoring. Perhaps you felt sorry for him, or perhaps you were flattered, but whatever the reason, you agreed to go out with him. Your college friends all encouraged you, because they were too stupid to see beneath the surface of his handsome, vapid exterior, and once the two of you were an item, you didn't feel you could break up with him merely because you have nothing in common. You don't like hurting people's feelings, after all, so you give your own no thought." He took another mouthful of wine. "Now you're stuck in a relationship that is going nowhere and is wholly unsatisfactory."

"What do you mean, going nowhere?" she asked, frowning. "Don't opposites attract?"

Gold laughed aloud. "Oh, yes indeed, sometimes polar opposites, but in personality traits only. You need approximately the same level of intelligence to make a relationship work, or one of you will eventually grow to despise the other." His eyes twinkled darkly. "Does he even know what books you read? Has he heard of Austen and Wilde and Bronté and all those other classics that you probably read in your early teens and a dozen times since? You have nothing in common, Miss French, and you should put the poor boy out of his misery and let him find a nice bimbo who'll constantly tell him how wonderful he is."

"Just because we don't talk about books…" began Belle heatedly, but he cut her off with a horizontal swipe of his hand, looking at her shrewdly over the top of his glass.

"How's the sex?" he asked casually, and she flushed.

"I – it's – none of your business!" she spluttered, and he drew his breath in over his teeth, shaking his head.

"Touched a nerve, I see," he drawled. "The obvious continuation of that sentence, I'll leave hanging. I wouldn't want to insult your intelligence." He grinned at her, his eyes glinting wickedly.

"As you've insulted me by every other possible method, why hold back?" she said sharply, still blushing. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Apologies, Miss French," he said soothingly. "I'll say no more of your differing intellects and personalities, not to mention your unsatisfactory love life, merely this; can you imagine entering a room ten years from now and being introduced?" He held up one hand, fingers splayed in an extravagant gesture. "Your hosts would say: 'this is Dr French, Professor of English, renowned expert on ancient languages'." He gestured with the other hand. "And then: 'this is her husband, _Gaz_. He wipes people's sweat off gym equipment'." His eyes were mocking, his voice taunting. Belle's blush deepened with humiliation.

"Has anyone ever told you you're an arrogant bastard?" she demanded furiously, and he laughed softly.

"Some days it seems that I'm told little else," he confirmed.

Belle slammed down her glass. "I'm ready to go," she announced, her eyes flashing blue fire. "So, if you don't mind…"

He was out of his chair in an instant, holding out her coat for her to shrug into. She practically snatched it from his grip, and he watched with an amused smile as she stormed towards the doorway.

"Well?" she snapped. "I wouldn't want to break the terms of our _agreement_!"

He chuckled, picking up his own coat and following her out. Belle strode off, breath misting before her in the cold air. She was furious with him, partly because she knew that most of what he had said was the truth.

"Miss French?" She slowed her pace, allowing him to catch up, but refused to take his arm. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said quietly, and he actually looked a little guilty. "I assumed you knew."

"So what if I did?" demanded Belle, shrugging off his hand. "My private life is my own affair; it's none of your damn business what I do with it as long as I keep to my end of our deal."

"I just don't want to watch you throw your life away on someone who can never make you happy," he said mildly, and she threw up her hands, startled and horrified to find that tears were pricking the backs of her eyelids.

"You don't know the first thing about me!" she objected, and he chuckled mirthlessly.

"I know you a lot better than that moron you're sleeping with," he said scornfully.

"No you…"

"Please!" he snapped. "'_She's not afraid of anything, she doesn't care what people think of her'_. You're as big an idiot as he is if you're telling me any of that's true."

"How dare you!" Belle's eyes flashed, her chest heaving. It was a beautiful sight. "Are you telling me you know…"

"You're afraid of _everything_!" snapped Gold, rounding on her, gesturing with his free hand, his eyes gleaming with dark fire. "But you're also brave, so you don't let it stop you, even when the fear makes you want to run and hide. You see the best in everyone, particularly when they don't deserve it. You're kind, and caring, and you won't say hurtful things even when they need to be said. That makes you sweeter than most, but it also makes you a fool and a liar, yet you still do it. Because you care to the depths of your _soul_ what _everyone _thinks of you."

Belle gaped at him. "How did you…?"

"I told you," he said softly, and leaned in towards her, his face mere inches from hers. "I _know_ you, dearie." His voice was a low growl, making her shiver. "I know you better than you know yourself. He never has. He never will. And he will hurt you because of it."

He straightened up, breathing heavily, his eyes dark and intense. She held his gaze, her expression mutinous. She felt like crying, not because of what he had said, but because she recognised the truth in it. The truth that the past three years with Gary had been an utter waste of time. She wanted to weep for her own stupidity, and her jaw trembled a little. Gold's expression changed immediately, his face concerned, and he brushed her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers.

"Belle…" he said softly, his voice almost a caress. She realised that this was the first time he had used her name. She was still furious with him, however, and wrenched her head away.

"You said you wouldn't touch me unless I wanted it," she said bitterly, and he had the grace to look abashed.

"My apologies," he said formally, with a slight bow, stepping backwards. "I'll take you home."

They walked in silence to the waiting car, but before they got in he turned to her.

"Miss French, please believe that I had no desire to cause you pain." He looked guilty, his expression one of regret, and she nodded stiffly, noting that he was back to his formal use of her surname.

"I believe you," she said coolly. "But I want to go home. I think it best we don't discuss my private life any further tonight, if that's perfectly acceptable to you."

He winced slightly at her tone, but bowed again, and opened the door for her.

* * *

**A/N: Oooh! I love it when they fight! I hope you all had as much fun reading this as I had writing it!**

**Coming up: Ruby goes into protective mode, Belle meets her supervisor, and Gold enlists some help from Jefferson.**


	7. Course of True Love Never Did Run Smooth

**A/N: thanks to all my new readers who followed and favourited.**

**Ellie, your review didn't let me reply directly, but I loved the intensity of your feedback. Unfortunately you will have to wait a bit longer before they give in to their instincts (sorry! I'll try to keep it interesting!) **

**Erik'sTrueAngel: couldn't respond directly either, but your comment on chapter 5 made me laugh! As for the passionate kiss you're hoping for, see my response to Ellie above. Please don't throw things at me (cringe!)**

**Thor: you might ****_need_**** your laptop to read this chapter, sweetie x. I love the passion though, typical Norseman!**

**Cheesyteal'c, spacecats, Wondermorena, Twyla Mercedes, JustBFree, michellelramsey1: some great comments from you all, it really makes the writing flow! I wholeheartedly appreciate it, so here's the next instalment!**

* * *

She bid him a clipped goodnight when he dropped her off, nodding curtly when he asked her to be at the shop after she had finished teaching, and all but flounced into the house. Ruby looked up from the sofa as Belle entered and watched curiously as her friend threw herself down next to her with a sigh.

"Gold been pulling your strings?" she asked, knowingly.

"Played me like a violin," admitted Belle. Ruby chuckled, and got up, trotting through to the kitchen and pouring a glass of wine for each of them. Belle accepted hers gratefully. Malvolio jumped onto her lap with a _prrp_ of greeting, and turned himself around several times before lying down. She scratched his ears absently as Ruby sat down beside her.

"How come you're home?" Belle asked, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up next to her. "I wasn't expecting you to be."

Ruby shrugged, flicking her hair out of her eyes. "Well, it _is_ a school night. Perhaps I'm getting responsible in my old age, but watching Gary and his friends play drinking games all night was no way near as much fun as I thought it would be. Snow has to get to work early and there was zero conversation from Mei-Ling. Aurora seems really sweet, when you can get them to stop sucking face for five minutes." She took a drink, and grinned mischievously. "Anyway, I thought if I was going to get wrecked and make an idiot of myself I'd rather do it in front of my girls tomorrow night than the entire clientele of the Rabbit Hole. So I figured I'd ditch the potential hangover and wait for you to get back." She waggled her eyebrows. "Gonna tell me how he's got your panties in a knot, or do I have to guess?"

Belle took a slurp of her wine to collect her thoughts. "We were having a conversation about him that somehow turned into an argument about me and my relationship."

Ruby snorted. "Don't get me started! Do you know how much crap I had to listen to Gary coming out with after you left? I was thinking it was gonna be pistols at dawn."

"A little dramatic," said Belle dryly, and Ruby giggled.

"Yeah, I suppose it _is_ Gary. Maybe dumbbells at dawn, or something."

"I somehow think Mr Gold could do more damage with a pen than a set of dumbbells," remarked Belle, with a sigh, letting her head fall back against the cushions. "Gary's not responding to texts. Exactly how pissed off with me is he?"

Ruby shrugged. "He was pretty far gone when I left. Doubt he could see to _read_ a text, never mind send one."

Belle huffed at that, but was secretly a little relieved. She really didn't want to have a conversation with Gary after Gold had thrown her completely with his comments on her life. Ruby gave her a penetrating look, and turned around, drawing her knees up beside her on the sofa.

"Gary said that Gold told him he was interested in you," she said carefully, hiding behind her wineglass, wide eyes peeping over the rim. Belle pulled a face.

"Yeah…" she sighed. "I don't quite know what I'm supposed to do with that." She rolled her head towards Ruby. "I think I need Emma and Snow's input as well before I go completely insane."

"Hey, that's what Friday nights are for," announced Ruby, with a wink, nudging her.

Belle sighed again, and took another drink, feeling the tension slowly beginning to dissipate as she stroked Malvolio. Ruby suddenly squeezed her hand in a display of sympathy, making the cat twitch at the unexpected contact, and Belle gave her a watery smile. Ruby scooted a little closer.

"So, what's his _deal_?" she asked curiously. Belle wrinkled her nose.

"It's like – the moment I think I'm getting him to open up a little, he turns everything around on me and makes me so mad I don't want to speak to him," she said. "I don't think he likes letting anyone in. I get the feeling he's been badly hurt in the past." She chewed her lip. "I wish he'd let me help. I wish he'd let me in, just a little."

Ruby let her head fall back against the sofa cushions with a groan. "Belle, why do you have to see the good in everyone?" she complained. "So what if he's been through some crappy break-up? Who hasn't? He's just using it as an excuse to be a total douche to everyone he meets."

"I don't think he is," persisted Belle. "I think he does some bad things but he's not really a bad person. Does that make sense?"

"No," said Ruby flatly, slurping her wine. "And, for the record, he needs a damn sight more than the love of a good woman to turn him back into a human."

Belle blushed. "I didn't mean that," she muttered. Her friend gave her a knowing look, and clinked her glass against Belle's.

"Honey, to me this is disturbing in ways you clearly don't get, but if you haven't jumped his bones by the summer, I'll give up booze for a month."

* * *

Gold was taking inventory in his shop the next day. It was something that would keep him occupied for many hours, and he wanted to take his mind off Belle. He had felt twinges of guilt over the way he had spoken to her last night. Not for saying what he had (because it was the truth), but for reacting so harshly to some of the things_ she_ had said (which were also true, but he wasn't about to admit that). She had been magnificent in her anger, her eyes flashing like sapphires, and he felt increasingly drawn to her. He recalled how her skin had felt beneath his fingers when he touched her cheek, soft and smooth as brushed silk, and his mind wandered to what the rest of her might feel like. He had wanted her from the moment he set eyes on her, but the longer he was around her, the more he realised that it was not just her physical being he wanted, delectable though that was. He wanted her lively mind, her beautiful soul, and her pure heart. Given that she had been severely pissed off with him last night, none of that seemed likely at the moment, which only added to his feelings of self-loathing. He had not enjoyed upsetting her. He had picked up his phone half a dozen times with the intention of calling her to apologise, but had backed out at the last moment. He tried to tell himself that he was letting her come to him in her own time, but the truth he tried not to acknowledge was that he was a coward and couldn't face rejection. At that moment the door opened, letting in a blast of icy air and interrupting his thoughts. He looked up as it slammed, the bell above jingling madly. The Lucas girl was standing with her arms folded and her feet planted firmly apart, almost as though she was steeling herself for a fight. Pity he wasn't really in the mood. He had a feeling he knew what this was going to be about.

"Miss Lucas," he said mildly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ruby scowled. "The pleasure's all yours, I assure you," she said sardonically, striding towards the counter. "I want to talk to you about Belle."

"Oh, yes?" He feigned a lack of interest, turning back to his ledger, and she leant on the counter, clenching her jaw.

"She's a good person."

He blinked. _That's_ what she was going with? "I'm aware of that."

"She sees the good in everyone," she continued.

"Unlike you." He couldn't help grinning at her, and she glared at him.

"I know what you're like, Gold, and I don't want you taking advantage of her," she almost spat. He sighed, putting his pen down, since she was clearly not letting this go any time soon.

"Would you get to your point, dearie?" he drawled. Her eyebrows drew down.

"Okay, I know all about the deal she's made with you, and I'm here to tell you that if you hurt her, I will tear your throat out with my teeth!"

She would as well, given half a chance. He allowed his lip to curl as he looked her over.

"What exactly is it you're accusing me of not actually doing?" he asked dryly. "Might I remind you that Miss French and I have an agreement, one which we are both fulfilling admirably without your help." He turned back to his ledger. "How exactly am I taking advantage of her?"

Ruby put her hands on her hips. "Okay, although it hurts my brain to even _think_ about it, I'm just gonna say it. I don't know what game you're playing, but trying to get her to fall for you is low, Gold, even for a scumbag like you."

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

"You heard me," she said in clipped tones. "You hint at what a terrible life you've had and Belle feels sorry for you. Well, I don't. You had some woman break your heart in the past? Well, boo-fucking-hoo!" Her eyes were flashing, and he couldn't help but be a little impressed at her regard for her friend. "I'm just here to tell you that while Belle is sweet, she's not stupid, so whatever game you're playing, she'll see right through you. She has a knack at seeing to the heart of people."

"Then perhaps she sees me for what I truly am, and the problem here is you," he suggested calmly. Ruby bristled, and he waved a dismissive hand. "Fear not, Miss Lucas, I have no intention of hurting your friend. I guess she brings out the protective instinct in all of us."

She looked suspicious, but nodded, as though she felt she'd made her point.

"I've got my eye on you, Gold," she said warningly, and he huffed, amused.

"Notice me tremble," he said dryly. Her eyes flashed with anger, but she tossed her hair and stalked out of the shop, slamming the door.

* * *

Belle had spent a restless night, and her eyes felt puffy and shadowed as she made her way through the staff corridors at the university to the stairs at the end of the building. Climbing up to the top floor, she paused in the unfamiliar setting. She had not been up to these rooms before, and they were the haunt of lecturers that she had had little contact with. She had known Anton, whose office was on this level, but he was still on extended personal leave and likely to be so for some time. She had never really spoken to her PhD supervisor, Professor Short, who had only been at the university for a year or so, but she had seen him scurrying about the campus muttering to himself. He was a small, bright-eyed man with white hair and glasses which he polished absent-mindedly as he waited in line at the cafeteria. She was aware that he was an expert in ancient languages and folklore, and very much looked forward to meeting with him and discussing her preliminary work. The corridor seemed very quiet after the bustle of the main thoroughfares of the university, and Belle felt that her footsteps were unnaturally loud. She slowed her pace nervously, her heartbeat quickening for no apparent reason. She had known that the offices on the top floor were unpopular, and had assumed that it was because of the stairs. Now there, she felt that the atmosphere was thick and oppressive, as though there was some sort of long-slumbering darkness that was itching to break free. She took a deep breath, telling herself not to be so foolish (and, oddly, remembering Gold saying that she was brave) and walked firmly to the door at the end of the corridor. She knocked three times, and heard a muffled 'come!' before pushing open the door.

Her first thought was to wonder how anyone could possibly work in this mess. Her second thought was that Gold's shop was a study in minimalism in comparison. Shelves covered every wall, crammed with books, boxes of miscellaneous items, rolled papers and strange objects. There were more boxes of assorted crap on the floor, piles of papers and old maps, and, in amongst everything else, a fat white cat, asleep on a map of the Middle East with its tail curled over its nose.

"Duchess just sleeps all day," came a quiet voice, making Belle jump. Professor Short was almost hidden behind the pile of books on his desk, a green-shaded lamp illuminating the pages in front of him. He blinked up at her owlishly through thick glasses, white hair falling messily over his forehead. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and bowtie over corduroy pants, and Belle bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh at the default academic dress-code. She suspected that, wherever his jacket was, it had elbow-patches.

"Professor Short?" she said uncertainly. "I'm Belle French."

"Oh!" he cried, making her start as he jerked upright. "My new student! You're not supposed to come until Friday!"

"It is Friday," said Belle gently, and he looked momentarily confused.

"Hmm," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose absent-mindedly. "That explains why I'm hungry."

Belle frowned, concerned. "If it's not a good time…"

"No, no!" declared Professor Short, standing up. Belle noticed that he was not much taller even when he did. He was even shorter than her, and she suspected that his name had set him up for a lot of bullying as a child. He held out his hand and she shook it with a warm smile. "Please, my dear, come in and make yourself comfortable."

Belle privately wondered how, but moved a pile of books from one of the chairs, and settled herself into it, pulling her bag of papers onto her knee. He blinked benignly at her, his fingers threaded together. She noticed that his knuckles were flaking with some sort of eczema, and he wore a chunky ring with a round black stone on the third finger of his right hand.

"I understand you're studying fairy tales and ancient languages," he said kindly, and Belle nodded with a smile. "I have some knowledge of the old languages, as I'm sure you know."

"Oh, yes!" she said eagerly. "I read one of your papers on Ogham writings a year or so back. It was fascinating!"

He looked pleased, eyes twinkling. "Well, I can certainly point you in the direction of some excellent sources, if that's the way you want to go."

"I haven't yet decided what I want to concentrate on," admitted Belle. "I've been undertaking some translation work recently, and I find it fascinating, but it's fourteenth century, later than I'm used to dealing with."

Professor Short made a face and shrugged. "It's often surprising where the pursuit for knowledge takes us," he said. "You may find that the work you're doing opens up many doors for you." He turned to the large pile of books in front of him. "There was something I was going to give you…" He started pulling books out one at a time, the pile wobbling dangerously.

"Professor Short…" began Belle, and he waved a hand.

"Oh, you can just call me Doc, dear, everyone does."

"Doc…" she said, trying it out. "Do you have anything on fourteenth century England?"

He blinked in surprise. "Of course! What did I just say?" He finally retrieved the tomes he had been seeking, and handed two thick books to her. "I think you might find these interesting."

Belle turned the two leather-bound books over in her hands, itching to dive into them. Looking up, she noticed him smiling at her, his eyes crinkling with pleasure at her reaction. She was suddenly certain that they would get along.

* * *

Gold busied himself with the restoration of a fob-watch as he waited for Belle to arrive; having opened up the back he was delicately cleaning the mechanism. He kept one eye on the door, looking up whenever he saw someone pass by the window. Just as he was beginning to wonder whether she was coming, Belle breezed into the shop, tugging off her gloves and dropping them on the counter as she passed by.

"Good afternoon," he said mildly, and she nodded at him with a murmur as she brushed past the curtain and went through to the back room. He leant on the counter with a sigh. Too much. It had been too much, too soon, and now she wouldn't speak to him. He had decided to leave her to herself for a moment before joining her, but as he heard her opening up the chest of old documents, his curiosity became too much to bear. He pushed the curtain aside and leant against the wall as he watched her taking out her camera from her backpack. The bag was heavy and unwieldy as she put it on the floor beneath the bench; he suspected it contained books.

"I thought we'd taken the pictures you needed," he said carefully. She refused to look at him, her mouth working as though she didn't want to speak to him.

"Well, I figured this would be the best way for me to work on the documents," she said, eventually. "I'll just take photos of them and then I can work on them in the comfort of my own home without straining my eyes in here."

He ignored her biting tone, but frowned. "I thought we agreed that you would work here…" he began, and to his surprise she fumbled in her bag and fished out her copy of the contract, with sticky notes marking two spaces on the second page. She dropped it on the workbench as though it was covered in slime.

"You wrote it," was all she said, still not looking at him. He picked up the contract, and noted that it stated she would attend him at the shop by mutual agreement and, in a separate marked paragraph, would carry out the work he set her.

"This clearly states that you will attend me at the shop…" he began.

"Yes, by mutual agreement," she interrupted. "It doesn't specify that I have to do all the work here. And right now, I don't particularly want to spend much time with you. So I'm taking the work home with me. That's all I'm prepared to _mutually agree _to." Her tone was bitter, and it made him wince. She spread out one of the documents and lifted her camera to take a picture. Gold was, by equal measure, fascinated and irritated by her, but he couldn't argue with her logic. He simply watched her as she methodically opened out each document, took pictures, and placed it to one side before preparing the next.

Belle could feel his eyes on her, and her hands were starting to shake as she held the camera. She was not about to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much he had gotten to her the previous evening. The look in his eyes, the way the timbre of his voice had lowered and the electricity jumping between them in the midst of their row had stayed with her and kept her awake long into the night. One of the reasons she had decided on this particular course of action was that she did not feel that she could be in his presence for any length of time without either punching him or kissing him, and neither option seemed good right at that moment given that she still had to undertake some damage limitation with Gary. So she buried herself in the sorting of documents and the taking of photographs, and hoped that he would leave her to it, along with her very confusing thoughts.

Gold watched her, cursing himself for a fool. He didn't regret being honest with her, but he did regret the distance now between them. She opened out one of the vellum scrolls, weighting the ends with knick-knacks from the shop's shelves, and he slowly moved around the room until he was behind her. He watched her work, dark hair falling around her face as she bent over the documents, making him wonder what it would feel like to wind her curls around his fingers, to bury his face in them as he held her. He waited until she was on the last document, and then approached her. She hadn't heard him move, but she felt his presence behind her nonetheless, and stiffened.

"Did your – did he give you any difficulties after last night?" he said, uncertain whether he wanted the answer. Belle fidgeted, closing up her camera. She had spoken to Gary briefly that morning. He had been suffering from a monumental hangover, and had answered in words of one syllable. She suspected that she was going to have to do some serious ego-smoothing when she saw him the next day.

"No," she said stiffly. "We didn't speak about you at all, strangely enough. And I'll thank you to keep your nose out of my personal business. I thought I made that pretty clear last night. I'm not the sort of woman that plays around."

"I never suspected that you were," he said coolly. "When I told your _boyfriend_ I was interested in you, I was in no way suggesting a meaningless fling."

Belle nodded curtly. "Then there's no more to be said," she said with finality. He let his head fall back a little with a sigh and a bitter, knowing smile.

"'Tis easier to bear the ills we have than to fly to those we know not of, I suppose," he said dryly. She turned slowly back towards him, flicking her eyes briefly to his.

"That's _Hamlet_," she said, almost accusingly, and he shrugged.

"Indeed. I found it fitting." He eyed her intently. "I don't suppose it's your favourite play, though."

"No." She was intrigued, despite herself. A small, traitorous part of her mind (that seemed to speak with Gold's soft voice) purred to her, asking whether she thought Gary would be able to quote Shakespeare. "It's _one_ of my favourites. I like_ A Midsummer Night's Dream_, and the history plays, and _Measure for Measure_."

"Ah!" He smiled suddenly, his expression self-deprecating. "_Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall._" He fixed her with a stare, grinning darkly, his eyes black in the light of the shop, running over her as though she were unclothed before him. She shivered slightly, her heart jumping unexpectedly.

"I should go," she said softly, turning away from him. He let out a very quiet sigh, moving closer to her. She felt him draw nearer, the heat from his body almost seeming to penetrate the coat she wore.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. She could feel his breath on her ear, and shivered. He put hesitant hands on her shoulders. "I truly didn't mean to hurt you."

Her heart was thumping painfully in her chest, her belly tightening, a dull ache starting to pulse through her. It made her want to lean back against him and feel his warmth, feel his arms slide around her waist and pull her close. She wished he didn't smell so good.

"I know," was all she said, in offhand tones, pulling free and moving away from him. He sighed again.

"When will you come back?" he asked, his tone resigned.

"I'm busy this weekend," she said shortly, still feeling the touch of his fingers on her shoulders. "I'll meet you on Monday evening as usual. We're going to Marco's."

He raised an eyebrow. "The Italian place?"

"Unless there's someone else in Storybrooke called Marco who has a restaurant," she said icily, putting away her camera and turning to leave. He watched her push aside the curtain, and followed her out into the shop. She strode to the door, all righteous indignation and bouncing curls and perfect legs. As she put her hand on the door handle something in him forced him to speak.

"I meant what I said." His voice made her stop, and he watched as her shoulders stiffened, as though she was carrying a burden that no-one else was aware of. She turned slowly to face him.

"Meaning?" she asked suspiciously, and he looked at the floor briefly, hands folded around the handle of his cane.

"There's no cause for you to be afraid of me, Miss French," he said quietly. "I wanted to be honest with you about how I feel, but I won't push it."

Belle bit her lip, and met his eyes. "I know," she admitted. "That's not what frightens me."

She spun on her heel and pulled open the door, leaving him looking after her with a confused expression on his face.

Gold drummed his fingers on the counter for a moment, thinking. He was not sure what she had meant, and was even less sure that he would ever find out. Coming to a decision, he fished out his mobile phone and tapped a number in.

"Mr Milliner," he said calmly, after a moment. "I have another assignment for you."

* * *

Belle managed to get a fair amount of translation done before Ruby knocked on her door and told her that if she didn't stop working, Emma was going to take away her laptop. Belle giggled and went downstairs to where the girls were sitting clustered around the pizza menus.

"Just veggie for me, you know the drill," she said, getting a glass and helping herself to red wine. Emma wrinkled her nose.

"C'mon Belle, pizza isn't pizza without pepperoni," she pointed out. Belle made a face.

"In my opinion, pizza isn't _gross_ without pepperoni," she remarked, sliding onto one of the chairs.

"You could share my chicken and olive one," offered Snow, and Belle looked disgusted.

"Sorry, honey, chicken on pizza is just _wrong_."

"Have to agree with her there," said Emma. "Rubes? How about you?"

"Onions, bacon, sausage and capers," said Ruby.

"Ew," said Belle quietly. Emma rolled her eyes at her and pulled out her phone to order the pizzas.

Snow nudged Belle. "Come on, stop holding out. What happened last night?"

She sighed, clutching her wineglass like a talisman. "D'you mean before or after Gold had pretty much told Gary he was planning on hitting on me at some point?"

"_What?"_ yelled Emma, mid-dial. "What the hell happened then?"

"We went for a highly uncomfortable dinner, with 'things you suspected about yourself, but didn't realise anyone else knew' for dessert," said Belle wryly. "Turns out he's quite good at that game."

The three other women exchanged confused looks, and she sighed again. "He says I can never be happy with Gary, that he's too stupid for me, that one of us will eventually despise the other, and that I'm only with him because it pisses my mother off."

There was a moment's silence, then Snow said, very carefully: "Okay, now Belle, you know we love you…"

She pushed her chair back with a groan and stomped across to the sink, leaning back against it. "Come on guys! Not you too!"

"Belle, we've been saying for ages that you're in a rut," said Emma reasonably.

"Well, maybe I like my rut," said Belle defensively. "Maybe I'm comfortable in my rut."

Emma threw up her hands. "Okay, I'm just saying, maybe everything that comes out of Gold's mouth isn't complete bullshit, that's all."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted to find he has you on his side," said Belle sarcastically. "Anyway, thanks to him, I now have to make things up with Gary, as if he wasn't paranoid enough!"

They looked at one another, and, almost as though they could communicate by thought alone, appeared to drop the subject, and Belle sat back down.

"So, Rubes," said Emma. "Manage to drop any hot dishes on Viktor this week?"

Ruby grimaced. "He hasn't been into Granny's thank God," she said venomously. "I just have to try to remember what Archie said next time I see him, and rise above the bastard." Her eyes softened as she mentioned Archie.

Emma nudged her. "Seriously? You're making googly eyes at a shrink? You do know that's a recipe for disaster, don't you?"

"Isn't he going to be your professor next semester?" asked Snow, a warning in her voice, and Ruby squirmed.

"He was nice, that's all. Doesn't mean I'm gonna do anything about it," she said uncomfortably.

"Aww, come on," said Belle, in defence of Ruby. "She's got a soft spot for Archie."

"She's got a soft spot for everyone," remarked Emma. "But we won't say where it is."

Ruby punched her arm as Belle and Snow burst out laughing.

"It's not like he'd ever look at _me_, anyway," Ruby muttered, and her three friends immediately clustered around her.

"What do you mean? Has he said anything?"

"So he thinks he's too good for you? That bastard! I'll strangle him with that god-awful tie he wears!"

"Ruby, you're a beautiful person, and I bet he can see it!"

Ruby held up her hands, laughing. "Whoa! Easy, ladies! I just mean he probably likes quiet, reserved people. Not the campus tart, as one of Viktor's friends apparently calls me."

Emma ground her teeth. "Okay, tell me which one. He is _so_ getting his car impounded for whatever traffic violation I can make stick."

Ruby smirked, and took a drink. "Bet you thought we'd let the whole Gold question drop, huh Belle?"

Belle scowled, pulling away. The truth was that she didn't feel up to discussing her relationship (if that was the word for it) with Gold at that point.

Emma sat back in her chair, accepting a refill from Snow. "Okay Bellz," she said abruptly. "Here's the thing. You and Gold. You're going to have to explain that one to me, because I just – ew." She shuddered, shaking her head.

Belle bit her lip, thinking. "He's – I can't really explain it," she admitted. "I know you, everyone in this town, sees him as a monster, but I just don't. I think he'll say hurtful things, but I think he always tells the truth. He's highly intelligent, and funny, and I can talk to him for hours when I don't want to kill him."

Snow and Emma shared an amused glance. Belle looked at her wineglass, then back up at the other women.

"He quotes Shakespeare." Her words were almost pleading. Her three friends let out identical groans, Ruby and Emma allowing their heads to fall onto their folded arms.

"_Tell_ me you didn't leave your panties in his shop," begged Emma, and Belle blushed.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she said stiffly.

The doorbell rang at that point, and Emma pushed back her chair, ducking into the hall.

"I'll get it," she called over her shoulder, hearing the others continue with the conversation behind her. She pulled open the door and rocked back on her heels in surprise, then folded her arms across her chest.

"Gold," she nodded. "What a coincidence. We were just talking about you."

He looked surprised to see her, and momentarily unsure of himself, but recovered quickly.

"Miss Swan," he said, a little stiffly, and brandished a pair of gloves like a weapon. "Miss French left these at my shop."

"Uh-huh?" Emma looked him up and down with a grin. "Lame, Gold."

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," she said bluntly. "I guess she couldn't possibly do without her gloves for twenty-four hours. Really warrants you driving out of your way to bring them round." He grimaced, and she shot him a self-satisfied look.

"May I speak with her?" he asked, and she drew herself up to her full height.

"No, I don't think so," she said, with finality.

He frowned. "Miss Swan, if you insist on interfering with my personal affairs I will insist on interfering with yours," he said softly.

She shot him a level look. "Is that your way of threatening me with a rent increase, or something?"

His smile was freezing. "Oh, I don't make threats."

"Nice," she remarked flatly. "Anyway, Snow's responsible for the rent on our place."

He showed his teeth. "You say that as though it would be something that would bother me."

Emma tossed her hair. "Yeah, and that's really gonna be the way to win over Belle, treat her friends like crap," she said sarcastically. "Want my advice?"

"Not even remotely," he said dismissively. She put her hands on her hips, and he smirked. "Apologies, Miss Swan. No doubt you were hoping to impart your extensive wisdom on matters of the heart. How long was your most successful relationship, may I ask?"

Emma bristled, but didn't back down. "Eight months. Which is eight months longer than your imaginary fling with Belle."

His mouth twitched. "_Touché._"

Emma nodded, as though she had scored a point. "My advice is to back off," she said. "You freaked her out a bit."

He sighed. "That was not my intention," he admitted, and Emma nodded.

"I guessed that, but there you go. Just give her some space and let her come to her own decisions. She's a smart girl."

He wrinkled his brow. "Why exactly are you helping me?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm not," said Emma bluntly. "I'm helping Belle. You and I both know she doesn't belong with Gary the Neanderthal."

Gold's lips curved into a smile. "On that, Miss Swan, we are agreed."

"Don't get your hopes up," Emma warned him. "If she asks me whether she should give you a go, I'm gonna tell her to run for the hills."

His smile turned cold. "Well, we know how much she likes to listen to reason, don't we?"

Emma snatched the gloves from him with a scowl. "Just back off. Hurt my friend and I swear I will make your life a living hell."

"Well, that won't be anything new, will it?" he said waspishly, and turned on his heel.

Emma shut the door with a frown on her face, and made her way back into the kitchen.

"Who was that?" asked Belle, and Emma grinned at her.

"Gold," she said, completely straight-faced. "You left your panties in his shop, he was returning them."

"I did not!" protested Belle, blushing fiercely as the others roared with laughter. Emma dropped her gloves on the table.

"He was dropping those off," she said. Belle picked up her gloves, strangely hesitant.

"Didn't he ask to speak to me?" she said, sounding confused.

"Yeah," said Emma brightly. "I thought you didn't want to see him, so I told him to back off."

"Right," said Belle absently. Emma looked at her through narrowed eyes as Snow opened another bottle of wine. Perhaps Gold wouldn't have too long to wait after all.

* * *

**A/N: Not as dramatic as the last chapter, I know, but real life has to fit in somewhere amidst the angst.**

**Coming up: Belle and Gold grow a little closer, Gold tells Belle something no-one else knows, and Belle and Gary have a serious discussion. Hope you all enjoyed, let me know if so! xx**


	8. The Comfort of Shared Moments

**A/N: Were you aware that I didn't own Once Upon a Time? No? Well, now you know.**

**I'd just like to say that this story is absolutely flowing out of my head. I've never written this fast (can't promise it'll last) and it's all thanks to you guys. Your support has been totally overwhelming. You all seem to be hoping that Belle gives Gary the boot sooner rather than later. It won't be this chapter, but rest assured, his time will soon come…**

**Claire: I couldn't reply directly to you, but apologies that you didn't get your beauty sleep! I must confess that I've missed quite a bit of sleep writing it. Really great comments, thanks. That's a great idea about Belle by the way. I really love it when they're fighting, no holds barred!**

**Guest: couldn't reply directly either, but thanks – I'll do my best to keep the insightful bastard making his pointed comments. He does back off a bit in this chapter though.**

**All Hallows' Eve 31, cheesyteal'c, Wondermorena, SFA, RoxyMoron, spacecats, Twyla Mercedes, michellelramsey1, paulawer, Erik's True Angel and Helena Menezes: thanks for your comments and continued support, here's the next chapter! **

* * *

Gary had turned up on Saturday afternoon as usual, and Ruby had decided to make herself scarce and go to Snow's for the evening, leaving the two of them alone. He had a sulky expression on his face which Belle thought didn't bode well, and it wasn't long before the subject Belle had been hoping to avoid came up in the conversation.

"So, did he make a pass at you?" he demanded, and Belle rolled her eyes, shoving her hand into the bowl of popcorn between them.

"No, he did not," she snapped. "And I'm more than capable of telling him where to go if he does, okay?"

Gary flicked through the channels on the TV, not really seeing anything. "I don't want you seeing him again," he said firmly, and Belle folded her arms with a frown.

"I made a deal with him," she said, equally firmly.

"So break it."

"You know I can't. He's already paid my fees to the university. I owe him."

"Yeah, and we both know how he wants paying," muttered Gary.

"Gary, I've told him I'm not going to be working at the shop, but I still need to keep to the contract I have. Do you seriously think I can't have dinner with a man without letting him seduce me?"

"Ah!" Gary sat up, finger wagging. "So he_ has_ tried!"

Belle slumped back, frustrated. "Actually, all that happened on Thursday was that we had an almighty bust-up, okay? I don't see us growing all that close."

"It's just not _right_, Belle," he complained. "Do you know what all the guys have been saying to me? I keep having to defend you the whole time. Against _Gold, _of all people! You have no idea how much fun they're having, coming up with things you two might be doing. It's killing me."

Belle's frown deepened. "Then they're idiots. Are you saying you don't trust me?"

"I don't trust _him_," he snapped, and she threw up her hands.

"Look, I don't give a crap what your friends think…" she began.

"But you should," he persisted. "Are you telling me what _your_ friends think means nothing? What _do_ they think, anyway?"

Belle hesitated. The truth was that her friends thought she should ditch Gary, Gold or no Gold, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Luckily, he hadn't waited for an answer.

"How would you feel if I was going out and seeing other people?" he demanded. "Maybe I should. Maybe it would bring you to your senses."

"I'm not _seeing_ anyone!" she snapped. "No matter what he feels, as far as I'm concerned it's work. If you're saying that you think it's okay to cheat on me, I think we need to be having a very different conversation."

He backpedalled hurriedly. "I wasn't saying that, I just meant – I wanted you to see it from my point of view. It feels like there are three of us in this relationship." He took her shoulders in his large hands. "Come on, Belle, please don't be mad. I love you, that's all."

His eyes were wide, his expression pleading, and Belle softened slightly.

"I know," she sighed. "I realise this is hard for you, but you have to believe that I would never cheat on you. I'm a one-man woman, okay?"

"Then he needs to back off," he said moodily, and Belle sighed again.

"If it makes you feel any better, Emma told him the same thing," she said, and he perked up.

"Really? Remind me to thank her."

Belle refrained from saying that Emma had not been protecting _his_ interests. She stroked his cheek in a way she knew he liked.

"Look, I know this isn't ideal, but it's what I agreed to. You don't have anything to worry about as far as I'm concerned, and Mr Gold said himself that he wouldn't approach me unless I wanted him to. Which I don't," she added firmly. "So please try to let it go, okay?"

He nodded reluctantly, and she kissed him, balking slightly as he crushed her against him possessively. Later that evening, they went to bed, which seemed to lift some of Gary's paranoia. He fell asleep immediately afterwards, and Belle lay on her back in the darkness, listening to him snoring softly, her mind whirling. It had been nice, but perhaps that was the problem. It was only ever just – nice. Even in the beginning, when their relationship had been blossoming, when he had first taken her to bed (and he had been her first), she had never felt the fireworks that she had heard other girls talk about. He hadn't made her stomach flip and her heart pound and her head explode. It wasn't as though she had never come with him, but it seemed to be more by accident than by design, when she was in control of the act. Foreplay wasn't really something he put much effort into. One of the reasons she was feeling uncomfortable spending time around Gold, was that the unfamiliar feelings he caused in her were exactly what she had been missing with Gary. It was as though there was electricity crackling between them, causing her skin to hum and a tightness low in her belly. Belle thought that if he _were_ to touch her, she might just explode. She thought of how his hands would feel on her, sliding beneath her skirt and up her thighs, the darkness that would be in his eyes as he drew her close, and felt a sudden dull throbbing in her loins. Trying to banish the thoughts, she turned on her side, snuggling against Gary's hot and hairy chest. She knew that her boyfriend loved her, and she didn't feel that she could dump him just because of what Gold had said. It was true that her relationship was not quite what she had been hoping for, but she felt that she owed it to Gary to give him a chance. She thought briefly of what Gold had said regarding her propensity to put the feelings of others before her own, but felt that this was by no means a bad trait. It was then that she made her decision. She would give it until her birthday in December. If she was still feeling indifferent to Gary, she owed it to him, and to herself, to end it. Quite what that would mean for her relationship with Gold was another matter.

* * *

Gold had taken Emma's words to heart, and kept his distance from Belle. He did not mention his previous expressions of interest to her, or comment on her relationship with Gary, for which she was grateful. The first few meetings between them were awkward, but eventually their relationship settled into a sort of tense politeness. Belle no longer worked long hours at the shop, preferring to collect her work from Gold and complete it either at home or in the university library. He hated the distance between them, but had accepted that he needed to give her some space. He treated her like one might treat a wild animal that one had found in the house, stepping around her quietly, not making any sudden movements, and waiting for her to come to him. The moment things became something approaching comfortable between them was not foreseen by either.

Belle had gone for her usual Sunday run one morning in early December, taking one of the paths out by the old toll bridge into the woods. The forest smelt incredible, of pine resin and damp earth, and she took the cold Storybrooke air deep into her lungs as she ran, her mind emptying itself of all the thoughts that had been plaguing her as she concentrated on how her legs felt beneath her, the rhythmic pad of her trainers against the forest path. Once she had rounded the old wishing well and headed back to the road, Belle let her legs open out into a long, loping stride that she knew she could keep up for an hour or so. By the time she reached the outskirts of Storybrooke she was panting and her legs were beginning to feel pleasantly heavy. A light rain was falling, soaking her flushed cheeks and running down the groove of her upper lip. She had the hood of her sweater pulled up, but tendrils of her hair had snaked loose and hung limp and heavy with water. She pounded down the hill towards the church, and wound her way through the wrought-iron gate of the cemetery so she could cut through the churchyard to the street on the other side. Looking through the fine drizzle across the neat rows of granite headstones, she slowed her pace to a jog, trainers squishing dully against wet leaves. Ahead of her, a figure suddenly stood up from where it had been crouching, and Belle started as she recognised Gold. He had his back to her, an umbrella keeping the rain from him, and did not appear to have seen her. There was a bunch of fresh white lilies by the headstone he was standing in front of. She trotted over with a smile of greeting on her face, which died as she read the inscription on the grave over his shoulder:

_Bailey Neal Gold_

_Born 8 December 1979_

_Died 8 December 1993_

_Beloved Son_

"I'm so sorry," she said softly. He didn't start. She felt that he'd known she was there. "When you said you visited him every Sunday…"

"I know." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "I didn't want to talk about it."

She bit her lip. "Do you want to be alone?"

He sighed, gripping the handle of his cane tightly. "I don't know," he admitted. Her heart ached for him, for his loss, for the devastation in his face. It was more raw emotion than she had ever seen him display. She shivered a little; the cold was starting to get to her now that she had stopped moving.

"Can I come under your umbrella?" she asked, and he turned to face her properly, inclining his head. She ducked under gratefully, linking her arm through his, and they stood in silence for a moment. She could feel the sadness and loss rolling off him in waves.

"It would have been his birthday," she said sadly, and he nodded.

"Aye." She had noticed that his accent grew thicker when he was feeling some strong emotion; it had been the same when they had fought all those weeks ago. She found herself wondering how it would sound at the height of passion, and blushed slightly, feeling that her thoughts were highly inappropriate at that moment.

"Will you tell me about him?" she asked, wondering if he would close himself off, as usual. To her surprise he nodded again.

"My ex-wife and I – we were teenagers when we met, when we had Bae," he began. "It didn't take her long to tire of me. Bae was the best thing I ever accomplished. She left when he was five, ran off with a sailor named Jones." His mouth flattened in a grimace. "Such a cliché. It was not long after we'd moved to Boston so I could go to law school. Anyway, when Bae was ten she came back, wanting to be a mother all of a sudden. Bae and I had moved to Storybrooke two years earlier. I thought it would be better for him to grow up in a small town like this. It's a good place for children." His face softened as he remembered, and she felt deeply for him. "I should have told her to get lost, but I thought…" He sighed, looked at the ground.

"You thought it would be good for him to know his mother," supplied Belle gently, and he nodded.

"I had custody, but I allowed her to see him every other weekend," he continued. "The weekend of his fourteenth birthday he was supposed to be with me, but she begged and pleaded to take him. I let her, and I've regretted that decision every day for the past twenty years." He looked at the ground, his mouth twisting bitterly, and she squeezed his arm gently, trying to send him some comfort through her touch. He raised his head once more. "When she didn't bring him back at five, as agreed, I knew something was wrong. The police came to my house at ten that night." He shook his head slowly at the memory. "When I opened the door and saw them standing there...well, I knew what it meant." He swallowed hard, looking at the ground again. "It was a car crash. Millie died instantly. Bae held on until they reached the hospital. I never even got to see him." His hands were tightening on his cane, knuckles whitening. Even after all those years, Belle could see that the pain was as raw as it had been at the start. "Jones had been drinking. He was charged for the deaths, but there was a problem with the prosecution's case, and it was thrown out." His voice was snarling. "He walked free from court with this smug grin on his face that made me want to kill him in the most painful way possible."

"I'm so sorry," Belle said, with feeling. He shrugged, and she placed a hand over his, squeezing gently. His fingers were very cold. She wondered how long he had been standing there. He let out a sigh.

"It's the waste that really gets me," he said quietly. "The missed opportunities. Bae would be thirty four now. I imagine sometimes how it would have been to take him to university, to see him graduate. He might have been a father by now. So many possibilities snuffed out by the selfish actions of a moron." Anger flashed in his eyes, and Belle squeezed his hand again, pressing herself closer against him. She wanted to put her arms around him, but held back, unsure of her welcome. He took a deep, hitching breath, not looking at her.

"They say I'm bitter and twisted," he said sardonically. "Perhaps I have good reason, what would you say?"

Belle sighed, and turned to face him. "I say we go and get hot chocolate at Granny's," she declared. "My treat." She squeezed his hand again, looking up at him. "Only when you're ready, of course. I'll stay here with you as long as you want."

Gold smiled despite himself. "I am in your hands." He turned slightly towards her. "Thank you, Belle."

She smiled, shivering slightly, and he frowned, handing her the umbrella and his cane and pulling off his coat. She started to protest as he wrapped it around her shoulders, but its warmth, _his_ warmth, and his scent were too good to pass up. She sent him a tremulous smile as he pulled it closed in front of her, and took back his umbrella. He stepped forward then, running his hand over the top of the gravestone.

"Goodbye, Bae," he said softly, making Belle's heart ache for him all over again. Sighing, he turned back to her, and took his cane from her, gesturing to the path ahead. "Shall we?"

After that encounter, Belle once more felt comfortable in his presence. She soon relaxed and became her usual playful self, linking her arm through his as they walked and squeezing his shoulder as she said goodnight, although she still took her work away with her rather than sit in the shop. She felt that the simple act of sharing something with him that others didn't know had brought down the barriers that had been hastily erected between them, and she was glad.

* * *

The following week Gold pushed open the door to Granny's diner to get a coffee, and was pleasantly surprised to see that Belle was sitting at one of the tables. She was reading _Jane Eyre_ while eating lasagne, which in itself was a feat that impressed him. She seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to not getting food on her clothes, putting the next forkful of meat and sauce into her mouth just before it could drip, despite being thoroughly absorbed by her book. He watched her for a moment before stepping nearer.

"Miss French," he said quietly, and she looked up with a start, her face breaking into a beautiful smile. He felt warmed by it, and realised that she was the only person in town that smiled when he approached. He stamped on that realisation by remembering that he was technically her boss, she was well-paid to smile at him, and she probably took it in turns with the Lucas girl to throw insults in his direction every evening. The thoughts made him swallow his answering smile, and his mouth worked before settling into its usual knowing smirk.

"Mr Gold," she said warmly, as though she was actually pleased to see him. "Would you like to join me for lunch?"

"Just coffee, I think." He mimed lifting a cup to his mouth to Granny, and she gave him a brusque nod of understanding. He slid into the seat opposite Belle, and she closed her book with an almost regretful sigh.

"_Jane Eyre_?" he remarked, eyebrows twitching. "I thought you would be more of a _Pride and Prejudice_ sort of girl."

Belle giggled. "Oh, I love that one too!" she admitted. "But if I have to pick one, I prefer _Jane Eyre_. I admire her bravery, how she doesn't take the easy path, but walks away from everything she loves because it's the right thing to do, and she doesn't go back until the time is right." She leant forward with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes that he found adorable. "Plus, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for Mr Rochester. He's – flawed, fallible. He seems more real than Mr Darcy."

His mouth twitched at her enthusiasm.

"I believe you won't be working at the university next week," he said, and she nodded.

"Christmas holidays," she said, and tilted her head to the side, giving him an amused look. "Am I right in thinking that I get Christmas off?"

"I believe the contract stated as much," he allowed, resting his arms on the table and leaning towards her slightly. "How on _earth_ will you fill your time in my absence?"

Belle chuckled. "I have a pile of papers to grade. Plus, I'm going to my parents' place this weekend."

"Until when?" he asked, and she grinned.

"Only for the weekend. It's my birthday. Not only do I get presents, but I also get to avoid Christmas with my mother, so it's a win-win, as far as I'm concerned." She giggled, nodding towards Granny. "I'm spending Christmas with the girls, instead. We all go to Granny's house and help with the dinner, then it's games and booze and falling asleep on the sofa in front of _It's a Wonderful Life, _or something."

"I see." He smiled at her as Granny placed his coffee in front of him, and Belle rested her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on top of them.

"Let me guess," she said teasingly. "You'll be skulking at home on your own, drinking eggnog out of the carton and wishing you could find something on the TV to watch other than Christmas movies."

He smirked slightly. "Rest assured, I will have plenty with which to amuse myself."

"No doubt," she said with a grin. "So you're not planning on a Christmas full of whisky and self-loathing, then?"

"Well, perhaps only Christmas Eve," he said with a grin, and her eyes sparkled at him as she finished her lasagne.

"You could always come over the day after," she suggested casually. "Ruby and I are planning a party on the twenty-sixth, you're more than welcome to come."

"Thank you," he said, and meant it, although he wasn't sure at this stage whether he would go. She noted that he had not given a definitive answer.

"The offer's there," she said easily. "It _is_ Thursday night, after all." She tapped his arm playfully. "You should get your money's worth from me while you can, Mr Gold."

"And who exactly will be at this elegant _soirée_?" he enquired, picking up on her gentle flirting and leaning a little closer. She huffed air through her cheeks.

"Oh, Emma, Snow, a couple of Snow's friends, Archie, Graham, a few of the other people from uni…"

He smiled again. "An evening with a bunch of people who don't particularly like me? Where do I sign up?"

She chuckled appreciatively, and he made his decision.

* * *

Gold had given Jefferson his assignment following his argument with Belle, but it had been several weeks before the man reported back to him with anything worth hearing. After meeting Belle in the diner and making his plans for at least one day of the festive season, Gold let Jefferson into the house later that evening. He raised a curious eyebrow as the taller man threw himself down onto the sofa and crossed his long legs, his velvet frock coat looking a little rumpled, his violet silk shirt showing damp spots where the snow had fallen on him.

"I wouldn't say no to a drink," said Jefferson, rubbing the warmth back into his hands with a small grin on his face. Gold rolled his eyes, and poured them both a brandy. The other man sat up immediately, taking a swallow and letting out a sigh of satisfaction. Gold waited, and Jefferson eventually fixed him with a beady eye.

"Your suspicions were correct," he said eventually. "Took a while though."

Gold smirked in satisfaction. "I see. Is it serious?"

"I don't know about that," admitted Jefferson. "Although I guess I could find out. It's happened twice that I know of. Seems to be a Sunday and Monday night thing."

Of course. That made sense, certainly. Gold rolled his brandy glass back and forth between his hands, warming the liquid within.

"Did you have any difficulties?" he asked, and Jefferson pulled a face, pushing his top hat over at a rakish angle.

"Only if you count having to be really camp to pull off the 'concerned gay acquaintance' thing," he remarked, and Gold snorted.

"You revel in being camp," he said sternly. "And I thought your interests were always – flexible – anyway."

"Hey, there's no-one more flexible than me," protested Jefferson. "Just bear in mind that my OTT behaviour these past few weeks means it's unlikely I'll ever have any success with those I've become 'friends' with."

"My heart bleeds," said Gold dryly, and Jefferson chuckled.

"So you have one? I should tell Sidney, that'd make the front page…"

"Was there anything else?" interrupted Gold, frowning, and the other man grinned.

"Other than payment, I think we're done," he confirmed. Gold grumbled something, and fished out his chequebook.

"And so to phase two," he said decidedly, when he had handed over the cheque. "I need you to let me know when the time is right for a visit."

Jefferson threw back his brandy in one gulp, making Gold wince. "I'll text you," he said firmly. "The rest is up to you."

Gold smiled.

* * *

The next day he was working on an old clock, and had just replaced one of the cogs, when he heard the shop's bell tinkle. He wiped the grease from his hands with a cloth, took off the apron he was wearing and picked up his cane, walking through to the shop.

"So, this is what you get up to in this sleepy little town." A familiar voice made Gold's head jerk upwards, and he saw a tall man with curly blond hair streaked with grey looking over the items in the display cabinet to his right. Frowning, Gold crossed quickly to the door, flipping the sign to 'closed'. He strode into the back room, motioning to the man to follow him.

"Mr King," he said coldly, turning to face the man and planting his cane firmly between his feet. "What the devil brings you to Storybrooke?"

"Business," said King genially. "What else?"

"I already told you," said Gold softly, his eyes flashing. "You and I have no business that I wish to discuss."

"I beg to differ," said King mildly, beginning to pace back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. "You do recall those little items I was seeking? The ones you were unable to locate?"

Gold smiled thinly. "Ah, yes. An unfortunate turn of events, that. It's not often that I am unable to satisfy a client." His smile widened slightly. "My apologies."

King waved a benevolent hand. "No matter. I've had some of my men making their own enquiries. We tracked one to a pawn shop in Boston, but it's no longer there. The owner is very kindly going through his extensive records for me, so I'm confident I'll have it soon. As luck would have it, it appears that I may be close to recovering one of the others as well."

Gold's stomach plummeted, but his face remained impassive. "Indeed?"

"Yes." King stared at him. "They believe that it's somewhere in Storybrooke."

Gold looked faintly surprised. "That seems unlikely."

"I agree, and yet, that's the latest information we have on the item." King stopped pacing and looked at him. "Which brings us to the purpose of my visit."

Gold's hands tightened on the handle of his cane. "I already told you that I have no interest in using what you are seeking."

"Then you can have no interest in preventing me from recovering it myself."

"I wouldn't say that your conclusion is necessarily accurate. Perhaps I wish for no-one to obtain it."

"Well, now you're aware of my interest, perhaps you'll agree to not standing in my way while I locate it."

"Just one problem with that," said Gold pleasantly. "This is my town."

King sighed. "I'm aware of that, which is why I came in person. You know why I want the item…"

"I know what you've told me," interrupted Gold. "Whether that's quite the same thing is another matter entirely."

King rolled his eyes in frustration. "Always so paranoid, Gold. I sometimes wonder how you've made it this far without stabbing your own reflection."

"I find it pays to be careful," said Gold icily.

"Given my explanations," continued King, "and the courtesy I've shown you in coming to you first, I was hoping you would see your way to giving me my due."

"I understand your concerns, to be sure," said Gold dryly. "Interestingly enough, I don't give a four-dollar fuck what you _think _is your due in this situation."

King's eyebrows drew down, and his smile slipped before popping back up once more, insincere as ever. "Come now, Gold. There's no need to be offensive. I really felt that we had grown past all that."

"Did you?" said Gold flatly. "And just how long have you been labouring under this misapprehension?"

At that moment the shop's bell jingled cheerfully, and he closed his eyes in despair. _Really? Now?_

"I thought you put the 'Closed' sign up," said King, frowning.

"Yes, well, the residents of Storybrooke take little notice, it seems," he said dryly.

"Hello?" The familiar voice made his heart skip a beat, and he strode into the shop, hearing King follow him. _Oh no. No, no, no…_

"May I help you?" he said, as coldly as he could manage, his expression uninterested. "I believe the sign says 'closed', but perhaps you're incapable of reading." Belle's mouth dropped open slightly, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed King looking her up and down admiringly. Belle's eyes flicked over Gold, then looked at the man by his side. He was handsome, with curly, grey-streaked blond hair and a beard, and was smiling at her with an affable expression on his face. But his eyes were like chips of flint. Belle shivered slightly, even as she felt herself smiling back in the accepted fashion. Gold drew all the darkness he possessed into himself and tried to throw it out in his voice and expressions.

"Was there something particular you wanted, dearie?" he said impatiently. Belle's eyebrows contracted and he sent up a prayer to whoever might be listening. _Please, please let her understand._ Belle looked at him, frowning, then noticed his tense posture, his cold eyes. She met his stare, and saw him shake his head a fraction. She took a deep breath.

"I was just browsing," she said cheerfully. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice the sign. I need to talk to you about some jewellery later, when you're free."

"But of course," Gold said dismissively, inwardly rejoicing. He beckoned to King, and stepped back into the office. King ran his eyes over Belle once more, still smiling at her. Gold felt his heart lift a little as he heard the doorbell ring on her way out.

"A pretty little piece," said King, with relish, as he stepped back into the room with Gold. "I must say, you seem to have more than your fair share of beautiful young women in this town, Gold."

"All of whom would run screaming if I showed the slightest interest in them," said Gold dryly, which was almost certainly true.

King chuckled. "I'm not surprised, if that's the way you talk to them. Such a waste. She'd fit in well in Boston. Perhaps I should try and give her my number."

_Try that and I'll cut off anything you want to touch her with and make you eat it. _Gold managed to keep his expression bland. "Was there anything else you wanted? Because if not, I think we're done here."

King gave him an appraising look. "No. If that's your final word on the matter…"

"It is."

"I see." The taller man looked displeased, but did not lose his small smile. "Then there's no more to be said. Good day to you, Mr Gold. I'll be in touch if I hear anything more. Perhaps we can do business after all."

Gold nodded briefly, hearing the bell ring once more as his visitor left. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. If what King had said was true, it appeared that he would need to make his own enquiries.

* * *

**A/N: It was nice to write a couple of little Belle/Gold moments. I watched the winter finale this week and am completely traumatised by the whole thing, so this fanfic is my catharsis. Stupid writers!**

**Coming up: Belle goes to see her parents, and makes an important decision...**


	9. Birthday Surprises

**A/N: Thanks to all my new readers who followed and favourited, and to all who shared in my pain over the finale (sob!)**

**Ellie: I think you'll be pleased by Belle's decision in this chapter! There will be more on King and Gold's dealings in later chapters. Thanks so much for your sweet comments.**

**Anon: couldn't reply directly, but I'm so glad you like it – here's more!**

**All Hallows' Eve31, Roxymoron, cheesyteal'c, spacecats, anna4bates, JustBFree, Mini Nicka, Twyla Mercedes: thanks for your continued support and insight: one update as promised!**

* * *

Belle looked out of the window of her cab as it pulled up beside her parents' large house in the suburbs of Boston. Snow had fallen thickly while she had been on the bus; the streets were still relatively clear but by the look of the leaden sky it would not be for long. The front lawn was hidden by a white blanket, illuminated by the string of coloured lights along the porch railings. Belle paid the driver and got out of the cab, thanking him as he lifted out her case and placed it beside her on the snow-covered sidewalk.

"Welcome home, darling!" She turned with a smile at her father's voice, and saw him standing on the porch with his arms outstretched. Grinning widely, she pulled the suitcase behind her as the cab drove away, flinging herself into his embrace at the top of the steps and breathing in his familiar smell.

"It's so good to see you," he beamed. "Come on in and get settled. Would you like some mulled wine? I've never made it before, but I think it tastes okay."

"It tastes like turpentine with cloves in it," came a dry voice. "But I think one really needs a good wine for the base, not the cheapest Costco had to offer."

Maurice flinched. "It was an experiment, Jeanette, and you know how I love to try new things…"

"Quite," sniffed his wife. Belle pulled herself from her father's arms with a quick, sympathetic smile, and turned to her mother.

"How are you, Mum?" she asked, aware that the answer given would set the tone for the next couple of days. Her mother sighed wearily, her chestnut hair pinned up on her head, alabaster skin as immaculately made-up as ever.

"I'm dreadfully tired, Belle. Christmas preparations are _exhausting_. Your father has been no help whatsoever, I'm afraid." Maurice started to protest, but fell silent as his wife held up a hand. "Well, you look – different, dear. Did you do something with your hair?"

"No," said Belle warily, and her mother shrugged.

"Hmm, perhaps it was only wishful thinking," she said vaguely, turning back into the house. Belle sighed, and exchanged a long-suffering look with her father. It was going to be a long weekend.

* * *

"It's a shame you won't be here for Christmas," Maurice said, as they sat down to dinner. "It always seems strange with just the two of us."

Belle felt a little guilty. "I've already said I'll go to Ruby's grandmother's and help with the dinner," she said awkwardly. "Maybe next year." She crossed her fingers under the table. "What do you have planned?"

"Actually, it's going to be _blissful_," said her mother enthusiastically. "We have reservations at that new restaurant in town I was telling you about. Five courses, with wine, for only two hundred dollars each!"

"Er…" said Belle, unsure how to react. She relaxed somewhat as her father waved a careless hand.

"It's been a good year," he said expansively, and she relaxed a little.

"And then on the twenty-seventh, I'm off for a break," added her mother, eyes shining. "Two weeks in Maui. I tried to persuade your father to come, but he flatly refuses."

Belle wasn't surprised. She could imagine that Maurice was relishing the thought of some time on his own to potter around in his workroom with no interference from his wife. She stifled a giggle at a sudden image of him dancing around the workroom in his underwear, singing along to the radio while drinking beer and eating tinned spaghetti from the can.

"So, Belle," her mother said, interrupting her thoughts. "Tell us all about how your PhD is going." As Belle opened her mouth, she continued: "Did I tell you that I ran into Mrs Kellerman the other week? Her son Ryan has just completed a two year placement in the City of London with Goldman Sachs. Wasn't he in your class at school?"

"Yes," said Belle non-committedly. _And he was a total asswipe._ "My studies are going great, thanks Mum. My supervisor is one of the leading experts on ancient languages in North America! I'm really lucky to have him. He's given me lots of really interesting paths to follow in terms of my research. At the moment…"

"You know, I think Ryan might be home for Christmas," interjected her mother. "Perhaps I could invite the Kellermans over tomorrow night."

Belle's eyes widened in horror, and Maurice came to her rescue.

"Didn't they have that thing at the country club tomorrow?" he reminded his wife gently, and she made a small noise of frustration.

"Ah, yes. Never mind. Perhaps another time."

"Go on about your studies, Belle," prompted Maurice, and she smiled at him.

"Well, I've been translating these parchments from the fourteenth century, and they're absolutely fascinating! They show the day-to-day life of a monastery, the contracts entered into, the life of the village nearby, communications with the Vatican, all kinds of things!"

"And what do you intend to do with this knowledge?" asked Jeanette, taking a sip of wine from a delicate crystal glass. Belle hesitated.

"Well, at the moment I'm just researching," she explained. "Acquiring knowledge. I estimate that in a year or so I'll have my point of focus, and it's then that I need to start coming up with something novel as the basis for my thesis."

"Novel," nodded Jeanette. "Shopping lists and letters to the Pope? What possible use could those be? Surely there are lots of these things around?"

"Not really," said Belle, trying not to grind her teeth. "Anyway, Mum, when it's finished I'll have my PhD. People will have to call me 'Doctor French'." She shared a grin with Maurice. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Hmm, what I wanted was for you to be an _actual_ doctor, not a – well, whatever they call themselves," said Jeanette dismissively. She suddenly perked up. "Speaking of real doctors, did you hear that the Bransons' eldest boy left his wife?"

"I – no, I can't say that I had," ventured Belle.

"Yes, only three years they'd been married, although you know everyone said he was marrying her because he _had_ to," she said conspiratorially. "Still, no baby by the time the first anniversary rolled around, so perhaps she trapped him."

"Perhaps they suffered a tragedy," said Maurice quietly, and his wife huffed.

"Whatever. My point is, he's back on the market. Won't take long for some bright girl to snap him up." She looked pointedly at Belle. "Are you still with – what's his name? – Gary?"

"Yes," said Belle, between her teeth. Her mother sighed.

"Really, dear, sometimes I think you're only with him because you know how very disappointed it makes me feel."

"Of course not," protested Belle, blushing as she remembered Gold's words to her on the subject. _That's just a bonus,_ she thought grimly.

The rest of dinner carried on in the same vein. Belle had to listen to her mother parade most of her old classmates before her and lavish them with praise, from those who had gone to work on Wall Street, to the class bitch who had somehow made her fortune party-planning, to the geeks Belle had actually spent a little time with who had formed some impressive software company and were making millions from designing smartphone applications. Her father occasionally tried to come to Belle's rescue by mentioning Sara Walters, who was in rehab, or Tony Gomez, who had taken over his father's successful engineering firm when he retired and bankrupted it within three years. Belle giggled at a couple of the stories he threw her way in his mild, quiet voice, but she still left the table feeling drained, and went to bed not long after ten. In spite of her tiredness, she lay awake for a long time, by turns fuming over her mother's seemingly careless digs at her life and worrying over what she would say to Gary upon her return. As the clock on her bedside sneaked past midnight, Belle made her decision.

* * *

The morning of her birthday dawned clear and bright, and Belle decided to go for a run to blow away the cobwebs of sleep and the last vestiges of stress from the previous night's dinner. She hoped that her mother hadn't planned to invite a hoard of her friends around with their eligible offspring; although Belle had specified that she wanted her birthday to be family time, she wouldn't put it past her. She felt much better when she returned to the house, flushed and panting with her face and legs cold from the bitter wind. After showering and dressing she went to join her parents for breakfast, and to open her presents. She was delighted with the tasteful bag and cashmere sweater that her mother had chosen (irritating she may be, but she certainly knew how to dress), and with the earrings that her father had picked out for her (small, gold and understated). After breakfast, her father called her into his workroom with the promise of something that he wanted to show her. Intrigued, she followed him down into the basement, which was where her father worked on his inventions. She was amused to see that little had changed since she had last visited; he still had his large drawing board with rolls of paper beside it and half-finished sketches, boxes full of assorted pieces of machinery and odd scraps of metal and plastic, the potential uses of which were a mystery to her. He lifted a box off one of the two stools in the room and motioned to her to sit down, before turning to the safe on the wall behind him and fiddling with the lock, opening it up.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," he said fondly, handing her a square box about six inches across. Belle pulled off the paper excitedly, kissing him on the cheek, and opened up the box. She gasped. On the black velvet cushion sat an ornate necklace, with a fiery red stone the size of a man's thumbnail hanging from it. The necklace itself was worked gold, filigree patterns curving around like leaves from the golden torque that formed the main part of the piece. There were tiny little markings on the gold, almost cross-hatching, but without a set pattern, giving the precious metal texture and life and making it sparkle in the warm light of the lamps.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, and he beamed at her. "Oh, Dad, it looks ever so old!"

"I believe so," he admitted. "It's come down through the family, you know. The eldest daughter was to be given it on her twenty-fifth birthday. Obviously it had to skip a generation with me, but your grandma was thrilled when Jeanette and I had you and she knew the line would continue."

Belle was so busy admiring the necklace that she almost missed what he said. She looked up at him with a slight frown. "Did you say twenty-fifth?"

He squirmed uncomfortably. "Now, as to that…don't be angry with me, Belle, but your mother and I were in a bit of a tight spot last year while I was waiting for my licensing fees to come through. So I – I…"

"You pawned it," guessed Belle, giving him an exasperated look.

"Only for a few weeks," he assured her. "Well – okay, a few months, but I made sure I got it back when the money came through. Of course, your birthday had already passed by then, so I thought…"

"Why not save it for this year?" finished Belle. She gave him a fond glare. "Admit it, you're just too cheap to get me a proper present, aren't you?"

He chuckled, tickling her ribs and making her squeal in protest.

"I love it!" she announced, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. He hugged her back, laughing softly, and then took her arms as he pulled back.

"Now, my girl," he said seriously. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

Belle bit her lip, flushing slightly, and fidgeted a little before answering. "I don't love Gary," she admitted, meeting his eye.

"Have you told him?"

"Not yet," she sighed. "I was waiting for my birthday to make my decision."

"But you've made it now," he said, and she nodded.

"I'm not being fair to him," she said, playing with the strap of her watch awkwardly. "He keeps wanting us to spend more time together and I – just want to spend less. I think we're done." She was surprised that she actually felt a little sad, and Maurice noticed. He put his arms around her once more.

"I'm sure you've made the right decision," he said calmly. "You need someone who's your equal, Belle, not someone you feel obligated to be with." She nodded with a sigh, and he stroked her back comfortingly. "Just don't tell your mother before you leave, or she won't let you out of this city before she's fixed you up with some investment banker."

Belle giggled a little tearfully. "Thanks, Dad."

* * *

Her birthday passed uneventfully, with an excellent dinner during which Belle only felt like kicking her mother a dozen times, so all in all it was a good day. Having left her parents on the Sunday, Belle travelled back to Storybrooke on the bus, which pulled up near the clock tower at just after five. She contemplated going straight home but, after a moment, decided to drop in on Gold to show him her necklace, as she knew that he would be interested. She was also hoping that he would be able to tell her a little more about the piece. He was standing behind the counter as though he had been waiting for her arrival, smiling slightly as she pushed open the door.

"I'm not staying long," said Belle, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She pulled off her hat and scarf and dropped them on the counter, dark curls falling around her face as she shook them out. "I just wanted to show you my birthday present." She unbuttoned her jacket, making Gold feel as though he was getting a present of his own, and shrugged it off, leaving her in her black silk blouse. He noticed the necklace she was wearing immediately, and it made him catch his breath. He approached her slowly, and gave her a questioning look.

"May I?" he asked, and she nodded. He fished a jeweller's glass from the inside pocket of his jacket and inserted it into his eye-socket, then bent so that his gaze was lined up with the necklace. Belle felt her heart thump more rapidly as his cool breath tickled the skin of her chest. He lifted the necklace in hesitant hands, scrutinising it. The touch of his fingers was very warm against her skin.

"Well, well," he said quietly, his breath making her shiver. "A fire opal. It's not the original setting, but even so. This could tell a tale of two hundred years or more just as it is. I'd say the setting is Regency. Early eighteen-hundreds." He straightened up, removing the glass. "Wherever did you get it?"

Belle smiled. "Family heirloom," she explained. "It's been passed down the female line for as long as anyone can remember. It comes to the eldest daughter on her twenty-fifth birthday."

Gold frowned. "But I thought you were twenty-six," he said, and she gave him a rueful grin.

"Yeah, well, turns out Dad was having some money issues last year, so he pawned it. My birthday had already come and gone by the time he could afford to redeem it."

Gold grunted. "You were lucky. A piece like this – its value is in more than gold and the weight of the stone, of course."

Belle nodded. "Maybe I should have you appraise it for insurance purposes," she said cheekily, and he nodded, looking suddenly serious.

"Unless you have somewhere safe to keep it, I would suggest you don't put it on display," he said. "Crime is rare in Storybrooke, but a piece like this would be irreplaceable."

Belle thought for a moment. "Would you let me keep it in your safe when I'm not wearing it?" she asked, and he nodded agreement.

"For a price, obviously," he said, eyes suddenly glinting.

"And what might that be?" she asked coyly, and he shrugged, showing his teeth in a wicked grin.

"I'm sure we can work something out," he offered, and she shook her head, wagging a finger at him sternly.

"I want to know exactly what I'm getting into before this goes anywhere near your safe," she warned, and he chuckled.

"Well, perhaps we can come to some future arrangement," he smiled. "In the meantime…" He reached under the counter and placed a rectangular parcel before her, wrapped in thick, deep red paper. Belle eyed it curiously.

"What's that?" she asked, and he smirked.

"I was under the impression that it was your birthday yesterday."

She gave him an excited look, and he laughed as she tore off the paper.

"_Oh!" _she breathed, running her hands over the faded, tooled-leather cover of the book she uncovered. She opened it up eagerly, and began flicking through the pages, her eyes running over the words.

"It's a collection of folk stories and legends from the area you've been researching for me," he explained. "I have an acquaintance in Boston who knows of my interest in such matters, and informed me that it had come onto the market. I thought you might enjoy it."

She looked up at him, her eyes bright. "It's beautiful! Have you seen the sketches in here? There are reproductions of carvings from gravestones, and extracts from ancient texts." She turned a few more pages, reverently. "Look! Those are runes! This is _incredible!"_

"As I understand it," he said, enjoying her reaction. "A gentleman in the early nineteenth century made it his mission to collect local tales and legends, along with fragments of the writings of earlier times. This is rumoured to be the only copy of this work."

Belle was floored by the enormity of his gift, and simply stood there, gaping at him as he smiled at her. His eyebrows shot up as she suddenly leant across the counter and kissed his cheek, leaving what felt like a circle of fire not half an inch from his mouth. He swallowed hard as she beamed at him.

"Thank you _so_ much!" she said fervently. "I love it."

She was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling, and he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe. He imagined pressing his mouth to hers, opening her up and tasting the sweetness of her. He wondered if she'd pull away, or whether she would welcome it. Perhaps it was best to deal with one thing at a time. Gold felt his phone buzz in his pocket then, and fished it out, reading a brief text. He shoved it back into his pocket with a small smile.

"So, what now?" he said pleasantly. "Are you off to see your boyfriend before going home?"

"I don't see him on Sunday night," she said automatically, pulling back and looking as though she'd been doused with icy water. He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? But don't you usually see him on Saturday? I thought you might want to spend some time with him, given that you were at your parents' place on your designated night, not to mention your birthday, and you won't be with him for Christmas."

Belle hesitated. She had been trying to put this off, and realised that she was being a coward about the whole thing.

"I guess I should go and see him," she said, her tone resigned. His smile widened, showing a glint of gold.

"Well, I was about to lock up, myself. I'll drive you round there, if you wish."

"That's very – nice of you," she said slowly, looking at him curiously. He shrugged.

"Far be it from me to stand in the way of true love," he said, in a tone that might be interpreted as sarcastic, if one were cynical. Belle wasn't.

"Thank you," she said, and Gold went around the shop, turning off the lights and leaving the building in darkness. She could hear him walking towards her across the floor, the tread of his shoes and the tap of his cane, but couldn't see him as anything more than a collection of shadows, which were hard to make out in the wan moonlight. Her heart quickened with nervousness, and she jumped as she heard the low murmur of his voice near her ear.

"Ready to go, dearie?"

Belle swallowed. "I am." She followed him out of the shop, and around to the Cadillac. Gold was surprisingly talkative as he drove, stating that Snow had come into the shop the previous day to purchase a present for her. He smiled at her look of excitement and laughed as she threw questions at him, trying to find out what it was. After a few moments, Gold slowed the car outside a large Victorian house that Belle had noticed on her runs through the town.

"I don't believe you've ever seen my house," he remarked, and she gave him an amused look.

"This is _yours_?"

"Indeed."

Belle giggled. "You have a pink house, Mr Gold."

He stiffened slightly. "It's salmon."

"Uh-huh. Salmon _pink_."

"It's a traditional colour," he said, affronted, and she giggled again.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I think it's great that you're so comfortable with your sexuality."

He gave her a look of such indignation as he drove on that she burst out laughing again. They pulled up outside Gary's after a few minutes, and Belle was still shaking her head and chuckling.

"I guess I'll see you the day after Christmas," she said, grinning at him, and he smiled back at her.

"Until the next time we meet," he agreed.

Belle watched as the Cadillac pulled away, and knocked at Gary's door, parking her wheeled suitcase beside her on the porch. After a moment or so, she could see movement in the hallway, and Brody, one of his roommates, pulled open the door.

"Uh – hey Belle," he said uncertainly. "You're not usually here on a Sunday."

"I know" said Belle brightly. "But I was away this weekend, so I thought I'd come and see Gary."

"He's not here," said Brody immediately. Belle frowned.

"His car is here," she pointed out. Brody's eyes flicked to the ceiling so quickly that she would have missed it if she hadn't been watching him so closely. He shifted from one foot to another.

"Yeah, well, I guess I don't really know where he is," he said, clearly lying. "Why don't you try calling him?"

Belle put her hands on her hips. "Okay, I'll do that," she said slowly, then looked up at him as though she had just remembered something. "Hey, did you know someone had slashed the tyres on your truck?"

_"What?"_ Brody pushed past her onto the driveway to see to his precious truck, and Belle slipped into the house and up the stairs, grinning to herself. She slowed her pace as she reached the landing. She could hear faint cries coming from Gary's room, and her heart seemed to slow in her chest and thump near her ears. A part of her brain, the sensible, thinking part of it, told her to turn around and get out of the house, to call him from outside and deal with the aftermath _without_ having to witness anything that would upset her. Another part of her brain, that clearly wanted her to suffer, goaded her into opening the door and realising her fears. Time moved like treacle as she put her hand on the doorknob and pushed open the door, to reveal Gary, fully naked, thrusting himself into a blonde-haired woman on her hands and knees in front of him. Both of them were facing away from the door, so her entrance had not been noticed. Belle felt the blood rush to her face as a tide of rage and humiliation swept through her. He let out a shout as he came, fingers gripping the woman's hips hard enough to leave marks. She seemed to realise he was done, and cried out too, making Belle's eyes narrow. She felt as though she was having some sort of out of body experience as she watched Gary's pumping buttocks, devoid of hair where he waxed them, numerous small pimples forming where he was getting regrowth. Was that what he had looked like doing it to her? She recalled that it was his favourite position, and her least favourite; she had always found it impersonal and unsatisfying. It was oddly fitting that this should be the pose she caught him in. She felt nauseated as he slowed to a stop, collapsing onto the back of the woman beneath him.

"Well, that makes things quite simple," Belle said loudly, and the two leapt in shock, the girl squealing, Gary spinning around to face her in horror. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, refusing to cry. "You know, you really shouldn't pull out like that, how's a girl supposed to finish faking her orgasm?"

The young woman had pulled the covers up to her chin, but Belle could see it was one of the three from the university gym. The bottle blonde gave her a self-satisfied smirk. It was really fortunate that Ruby wasn't there…

"Belle!" gasped Gary, winding the sheet around his waist in a vain attempt to hide what he'd been up to. "Why are you…when did you…uh, what…?"

"Three excellent questions," said Belle dryly. "I see your mind is as sharp as ever. I came to say that we're over. I just wasn't expecting you to make it this easy." She turned to the girl. "What's your name?"

"Mindy," said the girl sulkily, and Belle's eyes widened as she returned her glare to Gary.

"_Seriously?"_ she spat, and he flinched.

"Look, Belle, I didn't mean for this to happen! Mindy brought wine, and we were drinking, and…"

"Oh, I see," she said sarcastically. "Are you telling me you were too drunk to control yourself?"

"No, I didn't mean that – it's just – it was a one-time thing!"

"_What?" _snapped Mindy, folding her arms and glaring at him.

"What she said," remarked Belle coldly. "Do you honestly think that's gonna make it okay?"

"No! I don't…I mean…"

She threw up her hands. "Save it. We're done. I can't even look at you right now."

"You don't understand!" he shouted. "She made me feel good about myself! You – you go off with him and you made me feel like I didn't even matter, like I was nothing!"

"Excellent," said Belle quietly. "So it's my fault. Good to know."

She blundered from the room, barging past a wide-eyed Brody on the stairs, and made her way blindly into the street, blinking away tears and pulling her case behind her. She was furious, partly with Gary for not having the decency to end things before he played away, and partly with herself for not having the courage to end it earlier. She fumbled her phone from her pocket and dialled Ruby, shaking with rage as she waited for her friend to pick up.

"He's been cheating on me," she said through clenched teeth, as Ruby answered.

"Belle? What – do you mean Gary?"

"Who the hell else would I mean?" spat Belle. "I walked in on him with one of those bloody girls from the gym!" She held the phone away from her ear as her friend roared in anger. "Yeah, that was kind of my reaction, too."

"That sleazeball!" Ruby said fiercely. "Where are you? Let me call Emma and Snow and get them round here."

"I'm coming home now," said Belle firmly, and said a brief goodbye before hanging up. She had been walking without thinking, her strides brisk, remembering what Gold had said to her months ago when they had argued. Well, no doubt he would be ecstatic to be proven right, the arrogant prick! She suddenly stopped, her mind whirling, her blood boiling. _Gold_. He had known. Somehow, he had known. Taking a deep breath, and dashing furious tears from her eyes, she quickened her pace, striding along the road to where she knew (because he'd only just shown her, the manipulative bastard!) the salmon pink house sat, no doubt with its infuriating occupant laughing away inside.

* * *

**A/N: Oops! Guess that means Gary's toast, you'll be happy to hear! I'm hoping to get the next update up pretty quickly; I want actual Christmas to tie in with Christmas in the story, if I can write it in time.**

**Coming up: Belle confronts Gold, and the girls rally around.**


	10. Hell Hath No Fury

**A/N: If I owned Once Upon a Time, I wouldn't have to wait until March to watch the rest of this season. So I clearly don't.**

**Thanks to all my new readers who followed and favourited.**

**Alpha343: couldn't reply to you but I'm glad you enjoyed the sneakiness!**

**Claire: lovely comments as always – there will be an update on King in later chapters, but I haven't written it yet. I pretty much know what's happening on that front though.**

**True Courage, Helena Menezes, RoxyMoron, Jewel415, All Hallow's Eve31, spacecats, Twyla Mercedes, anna4bates, Wondermorena, JustBFree, michellelramsey1, paulawer: you guys rock! Thanks for all your support, and here's the promised chapter. **

* * *

The call came for Snow when she was kissing another woman's husband. She broke off their embrace with a yelp when her phone buzzed angrily on the dashboard of his truck.

"Don't answer it," murmured her lover, moving his mouth to her neck and making her shiver with delight as he traced a pattern over her skin with his lips.

"It might be important," she whispered unconvincingly, before moving her head and capturing his mouth with hers. He responded enthusiastically, his tongue seeking hers, his fingers pushing up into her short hair as she let out a blissful moan. Eventually, they broke apart, giving each other little affectionate pecks. Snow sat back, straightening her clothing and blushing a little.

"I probably shouldn't be here," she said a little awkwardly, and he gave her a rueful smile.

"Of the two of us, I'm the one who shouldn't be here," he said gently. She folded her arms with a sigh, and turned to look at him, shaking her head.

"This is wrong," she said sadly. "We shouldn't be sneaking around like this, it's not fair."

"I know," he said quietly. "I just – whenever we're apart I can't stop thinking about you. I feel…" He turned to her, urgency in his voice, in his touch. "I feel as though we're meant to be. Does that sound crazy?"

"No," she breathed, her eyes shining. "It doesn't sound crazy at all. It's just – I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Neither do I," he agreed. He bent to kiss her again, and she pulled away.

"Then you know what you have to decide, don't you?" she said gently. He sighed, running a hand through his dark blond hair.

"Snow, I know we've talked about this…"

"Yes," she interrupted. "But that was before we admitted what we felt. Wouldn't you rather it was all out in the open? We could make a fresh start."

"I can't leave her the week before Christmas," he said gently. "It would devastate her. Let's at least wait until we're into the New Year."

Snow sighed unhappily, and her phone buzzed again, vibrating its way across the dashboard. She picked it up, read a text message, and frowned.

"I have to go," she said, shoving the phone into her pocket.

"What? Why?"

"Because." She opened the door of the truck and slid out, turning to face him. "I have to go comfort a friend who didn't end it with her boyfriend because she didn't want to hurt him, and has just walked in on him having sex with another woman. I'm sure there's a lesson in there for us, somewhere." She slammed the door with slightly more force than was necessary, but leaned forward when he wound down the window. "I don't want to cause pain either, but there's no way for this situation to end without _someone_ getting hurt."

He sighed, nodded resignedly, and put the truck into gear, pulling away from her. Her eyes ran over the Storybrooke Animal Shelter signage as it left.

* * *

The call came for Emma when she was naked, riding out her orgasm on top of August in his bedroom. Emma ignored the insistent ringing of her phone and cried out, shuddering with pleasure and watching him throw his head back and follow her over the edge, his hands gripping her hips to keep her pressed against him. She slowed to a stop, panting, pushing sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes as he caressed her arms lazily. August gazed up at her, marvelling at her toned, lightly-tanned body and long golden hair spilling down over her small breasts. He reached up for a kiss, but she was already getting off him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows as she began tugging her pants on.

"Where are you going?" he asked huskily, his eyes heavy-lidded from their exertions.

"What? I wasn't going to stay," she said, groping around for her bra and pulling it on.

"Why not?" he asked, and she sighed.

"Because. It's not like we're boyfriend and girlfriend or anything."

"So…what are we?" He was looking a little confused. "Where's this relationship going for you, Emma?"

Emma sighed, pushing the bedcovers aside to find her discarded shirt.

"A booty call every time we get an itch we can't scratch isn't a relationship," she said firmly. "We have – whatever_ that_ is. I thought you were cool with that. No strings, you said."

"I know what I said," he agreed, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin. "Maybe the odd taste of you now and then isn't enough. I'd like an actual relationship. You come around every now and then and jump me, and if I'm honest, it makes me feel kind of used."

Emma gave him an incredulous look, then lifted the edge of the sheet, raising an eyebrow at his nakedness.

"Just checking," she said lightly. "I was beginning to think you were the woman in this relationship."

"Ah!" he said, satisfied. "So you admit there _is _a relationship!"

She gave him a level look. "You know what I mean."

"I know you care about me and don't want to admit it," he said, with a grin.

"I never said you were a jerk," she said. "Doesn't mean anything."

"Okay." It wasn't, not really, not as far as he was concerned, but he knew better than to push it. Emma finished tugging on her boots and reached for her phone. Checking her voicemail, she frowned and cursed under her breath.

"What's up?" he asked, and she scowled.

"Duty calls." She pulled on her coat, and he sat up with a frown.

"You just finished your shift…" he began, and she shook her head.

"Girlfriend duty. Gary cheated on Belle," she said grimly. "Looks like I have to go help pick up the pieces. I bet she's huddled in the corner crying."

* * *

Dry-eyed and furious, Belle stormed up to Gold's door and banged on it several times with a clenched fist. After a moment, she could hear his tread in the hallway, and stepped back slightly as he opened the door. He smiled at her briefly, genuine pleasure in his eyes along with a knowing light she had seen before and didn't like. He had removed his jacket and tie and undone the top three buttons of his shirt. It was the most casual she had ever seen him, and she was finding it difficult to pull her eyes away from the triangle of smooth, exposed skin at the top of his chest.

"Miss French," he said pleasantly, and she jerked her eyes back to his, flushing slightly.

"You bastard!" she spat, and his eyebrows quirked in amusement.

"Oh, my!" he said idly. "What could I possibly have done to incur your wrath?"

"You _knew_," she blurted accusingly.

"Yes," he said simply, not even attempting to deny it, and she stood there, opening and closing her mouth for a moment. He tilted his head to the side. "Would you like a drink?"

Belle frowned at him, then shrugged. "Only a – big one," she said sullenly, and marched past him into the house. He brought her suitcase inside and closed the door with a soft click, following her slowly. She had simply stomped into the lounge and was now looking with wide eyes at everything in there, clearly trying to balance her rage against her natural curiosity.

"What can I get you?" he asked politely, and she scowled at him over her shoulder.

"Anything that pours," she snapped. He smirked, and went through to the kitchen. Her phone rang at that point, but as soon as she saw the name of the caller she sent the call to voicemail with a scowl. She walked to one of the bookshelves in the room, running her finger over the spines of the books in a loving caress, as she mouthed book titles to herself. He had many of her favourites, and some she hadn't seen before. Later, when she was calm, she would remember the books that had clearly been read many times, and would smile fondly over the realisation that they had similar tastes in literature. At that moment, however, she was still fuming, and that didn't change as he returned from the kitchen with two brandy glasses held between the finger and thumb of his left hand. She took one from him, surprised to feel its warmth; clearly he had heated it with hot water before adding the brandy, and she lifted the glass to her face, breathing in the heady fumes in an attempt to calm herself.

"You were accusing me of something, I believe," he said easily, cupping the brandy glass in the palm of his hand. She rounded on him.

"Accusing you? You admitted it! You knew he was doing the dirty on me and you let me go around there and make a total fool of myself!"

"Why? What exactly did you do?" he asked curiously. "I'm assuming from your rage that you walked in on him _in flagrante delicto_, so I fail to see how that makes you foolish."

"Oh really?" she demanded. "So you don't see anything wrong in the fact that you knew he was screwing around and I was in blissful ignorance?" He mouthed the word '_blissful?_' with an unconvinced expression, but she ignored him, throwing her hands up. "You're such a bloody control freak! Do you take some sort of perverse pleasure in knowing stuff the rest of us don't?"

"Yes," he admitted cheerfully, and she shot him a venomous look.

"You are _such _an arsehole!"

"Are you angry with me because I found out your boyfriend was cheating, or because I didn't _tell_ you he was cheating?" he asked mildly.

"Both! I mean…I mean – shut up!" she snapped, eyes flashing. "How _dare_ you go around spying on me…"

"On him, technically…"

"…interfering in my private life as though you think you have the right to decide who I can be with? Who the _hell_ do you think you are?"

Gold sighed, leaning back against the marble surround of the fireplace. "You know, you really ought to take a deep breath and count to ten, dearie. This is by no means your best work."

"Kiss my arse!"

"With pleasure." He raised his glass.

"_Oh!"_ growled Belle, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You are the most…the most…"

"The most..?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, then nodded to the bookshelves. "You know, I have several thesauruses here, if you're having trouble coming up with an adjective."

"_Manipulative…" _she began.

"An adequate start…"

"Stop interrupting me!" she shouted, and he raised an infuriating eyebrow.

"Apologies, I was merely offering encouragement."

"_Wanker!"_ she spat, spinning away from him, and he shook his head with a sigh.

"Tut tut, Miss French. Such a beautiful mouth shouldn't mould itself around such ugly words." He grinned wickedly at her. "Although I'm impressed. No doubt you realise I'm one of a select few in Storybrooke who knows what that means. Your linguistic abilities never cease to amaze me."

Belle threw her brandy down her throat in a rage, and immediately began coughing. He smirked, but stepped towards her with a concerned look when she carried on, tears starting in her eyes as the alcohol burned her throat. She glared at him furiously, and he backed off, hands in the air. He waited for her to calm down, and went to retrieve the brandy bottle. When he returned to the lounge she was quiet, and leaning against the fire surround with her eyes full of pain and anger. She looked around briefly, and thrust out her glass for him to fill.

"Take it slowly," he said gently, and she scowled at him, but seemed to take his words on board as she sipped at the brandy in her glass. Her throat was on fire from her last experience, but now she was savouring the taste, she could appreciate the warm balance of flavours: hints of caramel and chocolate and vanilla all mixed in with the fiery kick of the alcohol. It was very good. Her phone rang again, and seeing Gary's name pop up once more, she turned it off and threw it across the room without looking.

"Well, that's one way of dealing with things, I suppose," he commented, and she glared at him.

"You just don't see the problem, do you?" she demanded. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I can see you're upset, certainly."

"_Upset?"_ She turned her back on him, shaking with rage, and a wave of anger, humiliation and sorrow suddenly washed through her, leaving her overwhelmed. She felt the tears starting in her eyes, and blinked angrily, wishing them away. He watched her from behind as she bowed her head slightly and dashed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. _Oh, crap._

"Belle," he said softly, and she shook her head, squaring her shoulders against him like a barrier. He put down his brandy and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched. He kept the hand there, his thumb stroking against the tightening muscles as she shook a little. He bit his lip, concerned. "Belle, please don't cry." His voice was a soft croon, but she rounded on him angrily.

"I'm _not_ crying!" she snapped, tear-filled eyes proving her a liar. "Don't touch me!"

He backed away immediately, hands in the air, and picked up his brandy glass, letting her take a few deep breaths and calm down a little before he spoke.

"May I ask a question?"

She gave him a narrow look, but nodded cautiously.

"When you were at my shop today, you didn't seem all that keen on going to visit him," he observed. "Can you tell me why?"

Belle sighed, chewing her lip. "Because I was going to finish it, I didn't want to upset him, and I was trying to avoid the whole messy issue, that's why." She took another drink, glowering at him.

"I see," said Gold neutrally. "So, you planned to end the relationship, and you're angry that he got there first?" He shook his head, tutting softly. "And you call _me _a control freak? I'm hurt." He pressed a hand to his chest with a wounded expression.

"He didn't get there _first_, that's my point!" snapped Belle. "He decided to bang someone else before we'd actually finished!"

"Ah! So – you felt _guilty _about wanting to end it with him, but now you're angry that he's given you a _reason_," said Gold, fingers dancing in the air. "You'll forgive me if I'm not following your train of thought here, dearie."

Belle practically snarled at him. "I'm _angry_ because he _cheated_ on me with someone called _Mindy!"_

"I really don't see that the name of his paramour has any significant bearing on…"

"Of _course_ it does, you idiot!" she yelled, throwing up her hands in despair. "The girls would understand!"

"Well, I'd offer to drive you home, but I find I'm rather enjoying our little debate," he said with a grin.

"_Oh!"_ Belle raised her eyes to the ceiling with a growl of frustration and threw herself down onto the sofa, letting her head fall back against the cushions. After a moment, he sat down beside her slowly. There was a minute or two of silence.

"Perhaps I should have told you," he admitted. "But I'd only just found out myself, and I thought you might not believe me."

She sighed, rolling her head across to face him. "You've never lied to me before. I could have taken it. I didn't need to see it."

He was silent for a moment. "Yes," he said quietly. "I knew that she would be there when I took you to his house. I didn't realise you would – walk in on it." He turned slightly towards her, the soft light from the lamps picking out strands of silver in his hair. There was an expression on his face that almost looked like contrition. "I apologise for not giving you some warning. Perhaps it could have been handled more – sensitively."

"How exactly did you know, anyway?" she asked suspiciously, and he grinned, his eyes suddenly glinting mysteriously.

"Ah, Miss French, if I told you all my secrets, what would there be left to discover?"

Belle watched him shrewdly as if that would help her deduce what exactly had happened in her absence, then decided suddenly that she really didn't care that much. She was tired, upset, and wanted to be at home. She drained her brandy glass, noting that it was beginning to make her feel a little light-headed, and stood up.

"I should go," she said sullenly.

"Now?" he asked. "I'm not sure that walking home in the snow at this hour is wise."

Belle turned on him with a snarl, suddenly furious again. "What? Did you think we were going to have a sleepover?"

He sighed. "Let me run you home."

"I'd rather share a car with a live crocodile!" she snapped, her eyes flashing, and stormed into the hall, grabbing her suitcase. She could hear him following her as she wrenched open the front door and stormed off down the path.

"You can't expect me to let you walk home alone," he said loudly, and she tossed her head, glaring back at him.

"Unless you're planning on outrunning me, Gold, I'll say goodnight!" It was a low blow, and she noticed his mouth twist as she turned her back on him, but she felt only a tiny twinge of guilt as she set off up the street, her case acting as a miniature snowplough, tossing out waves of white powder in her wake. It was no surprise, however, when five minutes later Gold's Cadillac pulled up beside her and Mr Dover, in his soft, gentle voice, asked her to get in. As she saw no sign of Gold in the car, and she had no quarrel with Dover, Belle got in with a bad grace, and wished him a subdued goodnight when he dropped her off at home. She dragged her suitcase to the front door, now thoroughly sick of the damned thing, and fumbled for her keys. She was almost trampled by Ruby and Emma when she got through the door, and Snow nimbly picked up her case and dragged it out of the way before the three girls shepherded her into the kitchen and made her sit down while they poured her a large glass of wine.

"I walked in on them," she said, and sat back at the growls of outrage. She explained, in hesitant sentences, exactly what had transpired when she turned up at Gary's place. Her friends grew steadily more vocal in their anger as the tale progressed.

"He cheated on me with someone called _Mindy!"_ finished Belle, motioning Emma to give her a refill. "Can you believe that? I bet she signs her name with a little heart over the i."

"Or a smiley face," agreed Snow, over Ruby and Emma's chorus of 'asshole', rubbing Belle's back in sympathy.

"What did he have to say for himself?" asked Ruby, and Belle snorted.

"Yeah, we didn't really cover that," she said flatly. "I yelled, accused _Mindy_ of faking her orgasm – which she totally _was_, by the way – he sort of spluttered a bit and tried to suggest it was my fault, and then I stormed out."

"Any calls or texts since?" asked Emma in a clipped voice. Belle shrugged.

"I didn't answer. I think I left my phone at Gold's house, anyway."

"_Gold's house?"_ they all said as one, and she sighed, holding up her hands.

"Okay, okay, I haven't told you everything. The bastard knew."

"_What?_" She was glad that they were as enraged as she had been. She explained what had happened from going to Gold's shop to her leaving his house in a rage, and their eyes widened.

"Tell me you at least kneed him in the balls," begged Emma, and Belle chuckled.

"Oh, he has no idea how close he came!" she said dryly. "I did yell at him for a while, and he was his usual arrogant, know-it-all self." She sighed, turning the glass round and round in her hands. "Now I've had a little time to calm down, I suppose it wasn't his fault. He said he'd only just found out, it wasn't as though he'd been keeping it from me." She sighed again. "Besides, if it wasn't for him I'd still be in ignorance, or I'd have broken it off with Gary and be feeling really guilty. Neither one of those options seems good, so I guess I have to thank him for that."

"Even if he has been stalking Gary," nodded Ruby. Belle wrinkled her nose.

"I don't see how he could, I was with him this afternoon. It must be someone else letting him know." She stifled a giggle. "Maybe it was Brody selling out his best friend for new rims for his truck. That's definitely plausible!"

"So, what's next?" asked Emma, and Belle snorted.

"What's next? I'm young, free and single, that's what's next! Ruby and I are having a kick-ass party the day after Christmas, and you guys are coming to help me get drunk."

"And you promise, no Gary?" ventured Ruby. Belle shot her a look of disgust.

"Well, I guess that's over, then," remarked Snow, and Belle threw back the wine in her glass, slamming it down with force.

"It was over anyway," she admitted. "I was on my way to end it with him, and the bastard beat me to it!"

"You were going to end it?" asked Ruby curiously. "How come? You never said."

Belle sighed. "I've been thinking about it for a while," she explained. "We've been together for ages and yet I never wanted to take it any further. We didn't really have anything in common, we were just – a habit."

"Guess you can't build a relationship just on sex," noted Emma, and Belle snorted.

"We didn't even have that, really. At least, not from what you guys tell me about really good hook-ups," she complained. "I wouldn't be surprised if Gary thought the clitoris was a make of car."

The others roared with laughter, and after a moment Belle joined in.

"Oh, I can see the ad campaign now!" chuckled Emma, and threw up her hands as though she was presenting something amazing. "The Ford Clitoris! Takes a while to get the motor running but, with the right handling, gives you an explosive ride!"

Ruby and Snow were holding on to one another, almost crying with laughter. Emma reached out and refilled Belle's glass.

"Here's to good times and men who know their way around a woman's body!" she said, and they all clinked glasses, still chuckling.

"So, any other plans?" asked Snow, and Belle shrugged.

"What do you mean?"

"She obviously wants to know whether you're gonna walk into Gold's shop, whip his pants off and straddle him in the back room," said Emma, as though it were obvious.

"Thanks," said Ruby, wrinkling her nose, as Belle blushed fiercely. "Not getting _that _image out of my head without a lobotomy. Nice work, Swan."

Emma chuckled, but Snow gave Belle a look of understanding.

"You do know you don't have to make any decisions right now, don't you?" she said gently, and Belle snorted.

"Men _suck!_" she said with feeling. "Gold is a man, _ergo_, not worthy of my consideration at this time."

"Welcome to the sisterhood," said Emma, toasting Belle once more.

"How about we make a pact?" suggested Ruby excitedly, leaning on the table. "All of us agree to have nothing to do with guys until the New Year?"

"That's like two weeks Ruby!" said Belle, rolling her eyes. "Surely we can do better than that!"

"Two weeks sounds fine," said Snow quickly, and Emma hurriedly agreed. Ruby grinned.

"Okay – If anyone breaks it – you have to do a forfeit. Maybe…I don't know…kiss Leroy or something."

"He'd have a heart attack!" protested Belle.

"No men!" announced Emma, raising her glass. "I hereby pledge not to have sex with anyone until after the Christmas decorations are down!"

The other girls clinked their glasses.

"Just so we're clear, they come down straight after New Year, right?" asked Ruby anxiously.

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Didn't think I'd get this up in time. I'm going away this weekend and am working through to Christmas Eve, so no update for a few days. I haven't written much of the next chapter, but I ****_really_**** want to give you guys a Christmas present, so I'm hoping to get it up over the holiday period before I have to drag my sorry ass back to work on the 30****th****.**

**Coming up: Christmas party!**


	11. Christmas Presence

**A/N: Squealed like a little girl when I came back last night and saw the amount of reviews I had to go through – you guys are the best!**

**Thanks to my new readers who followed and favourited. To those I couldn't reply to directly…**

**Ellie: I too, am looking forward to writing the chapter when she gives in to her passion! As you say, it's a fine line between anger and lust that she's treading at the moment!**

**221B (Hmm, I can guess your obsession, and totally support it!): thank you so much, I'm so glad you're enjoying their interactions.**

**Lai: Wow! Considering some I've read that's an amazing compliment. Thanks so much – I hope I can continue to keep you interested.**

**Jassy: Oh, I agree!**

**Anon: Despite Gary being out of the picture, Gold will be treading carefully.**

**Guest: yes, he is rather delicious, isn't he?**

**Wondermorena, michellelramsey1, RoxyMoron, spacecats, jewel415, cheesyteal'c, ecinspired, JustBFree, Mini Nicka, paulawer, Erik'sTrueAngel, Twyla Mercedes, Crazykat77, emmaleewhittaker: thanks for all your brilliant comments, and here is the (extra long) Christmas update as promised! You can blame Twyla Mercedes for some of the things that Gold gets up to in this chapter (thanks for the ideas, dearie!). Merry Christmas to all! xx**

* * *

Emma and Snow decided to sleep over at Belle and Ruby's, and after a late night and several bottles of wine they were all somewhat bleary-eyed when the doorbell rang the next morning. Snow was nearest to the door, so shoved herself to her feet, grumbling, while the others wrapped their hands around mugs of coffee as though they could somehow absorb the caffeine through osmosis. She shuffled to the door and opened it up, squinting into the bright light reflecting off the snowy streets. A young man she recognised from the florist's shop was standing on the porch with a huge bouquet of blood-red roses.

"Uh – hi?" said Snow, smiling at him.

"Delivery for Miss French," he said, sounding a little nasal, as though he was starting a cold. He handed her the flowers and held up an envelope. Snow hefted the bouquet into one arm and took it, smiling her thanks as he wished her a good morning. She shut the door, carrying the flowers into the kitchen and plonking them down in the middle of the table to a chorus of exclamations.

"Wow! There must be four dozen there," said Ruby, sniffing the roses with a grin.

"They're for you, obviously," put in Snow, handing her the envelope. Belle frowned.

"If Gary thinks flowers will work on me…" she began, and Emma snorted.

"Oh yeah, right! Has Gary _ever_ bought you flowers, Belle?" she scoffed. "It's obviously Gold, you idiot. Open the envelope."

Belle ripped it open, and pulled out her phone, which she had left at his house the previous evening, and a small note in his neat, slanting handwriting.

_"Please accept my apologies for last night's events. I hope that you are also of the opinion that forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."_

Belle rolled her eyes, secretly pleased, and showed the note to the others as she breathed in the scent of the flowers, running her fingers over the velvet petals admiringly.

"You know what this is, don't you?" said Snow, and Belle frowned.

"He's saying sorry," she said lamely, and Snow sighed.

"_That_ is not an 'I'm sorry' bouquet," she said firmly, pointing at the roses.

"No, that's an 'I'm desperately in love with you and want to have crazy naked sex with you' bouquet," added Ruby. Belle flushed as the others chuckled.

"So…what do I do now?" she asked uncertainly. Ruby shrugged.

"Depends on how soon you're planning on having crazy naked sex with him," she said helpfully, which only made Belle blush harder.

"Well, you could always go and thank him for the flowers," suggested Snow, looking at her knowingly. "Come on, Belle, it's obvious you want to forgive him. Stop beating yourself up. Go talk to him and get him to come to the party."

Emma groaned. "Gold's coming to the party? I'll need to get extra drunk to put up with him."

Ruby rubbed her hands together excitedly. "With the punch recipe I've made up, getting drunk won't be a problem, trust me."

* * *

Belle had been hovering outside Gold's shop for a couple of minutes before she took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stamping the snow from her boots and brushing it from her faux-fur hat. He looked up as she approached the counter, putting down his pen and giving her a small smile.

"Hey," said Belle, feeling a little nervous. His smile widened fractionally.

"Hey," he returned pleasantly. She fidgeted, looking at her gloves, and he sighed.

"I understand you're probably still angry with me…" he began, but she shook her head.

"I'm not," she said truthfully. "Thank you for the flowers."

He picked up his cane and rounded the counter slowly, pausing in front of her.

"Well, I thought an apology was in order," he said quietly. "Does this mean that you forgive me?"

"No," said Belle, and his brows drew down a fraction. She shook her head. "I mean, there's nothing to forgive. I know it wasn't your fault. I was just hurt and angry and lashing out." His face was impassive, and she twisted her gloved hands uncertainly. "Anyway…I'm sorry for what I said," she added. He smiled.

"No matter. Injured pride is always painful." He was gazing at her, his eyes running over her face, and she felt herself flush slightly.

"So, are you still coming to the party?" she asked, and his smile broadened.

"But of course, if you still want me there."

"I do." She was surprised at how quickly she answered, but realised that it was the truth.

"Excellent." He stepped back behind the counter again and reached underneath it. "I have a gift for you."

"Really?" Belle was intrigued. "A Christmas present?" She looked excited as he brought a bag up onto the counter and opened it. Inside Belle found a box of four crystal brandy glasses and a bottle of the brandy she had drunk the previous evening. She gave him an amused glare, and he shrugged.

"You appeared to appreciate the flavour even when you were busy yelling at me," he said, by way of explanation.

"Thank you for reminding me," she growled, making him chuckle.

"My pleasure, dearie," he said quietly. "You never know, perhaps you'll invite me in for a drink one night." His voice had dropped to a softer, lower frequency, making the hairs on the back of Belle's neck stand up. She swallowed hard, then raised her head, meeting his eyes.

"Perhaps I will," she said boldly, and he smiled slowly.

"Then by giving you this I can be assured of at least one decent drink," he said lightly, and she glared at him again.

"See, you do something nice, and then you have to go and be an ass just to even things out, don't you?" she said severely, and he laughed. She rummaged in her bag. "Actually, I have a gift for you, I've been waiting to give it to you, but since you went first..." She fished out the small wrapped box and handed it to him. Eyebrows somewhere near his hairline, he opened it up to reveal a pair of gold and onyx cufflinks. She had purchased them a couple of weeks previously, and they had cost a fair bit, but then she was aware that he did nothing on the cheap.

"They're really lovely," he said, clearly touched, and she was pleased to see that she had actually managed to surprise him. "Thank you, Belle, I was not expecting a gift." His eyes were warm, sending a pulse of heat through her, and she shrugged.

"Well, unexpected presents are the best kind," she said with a grin, which he returned.

"What time do the festivities begin at this party of yours?" he asked.

"Seven, officially, but most people probably won't turn up until after eight o'clock," she said. "Bring a bottle, or some food. We're buying plenty of booze and I'm putting on a spread, but it's always good to have more."

"What sort of party is it?" he asked then, and she gave him a confused look.

"It's a – party. Food, drink, music, dancing. Maybe even some conversation. Why?"

He smiled, eyes gleaming. "Well, I need to know what to wear."

She gave him an amused look then, casting her eyes over him. "Is there anything apart from suits in your wardrobe?"

"Well, what are you wearing?" he asked teasingly, and she smiled.

"Just come as you are, Gold," she said lightly. "I may even dance with you if you behave yourself." She tripped out of the door, her bag of gifts swinging from her hand, and he smiled after her. He was looking forward to it already.

* * *

The girls spent a relaxing Christmas together, helping Granny to cook the dinner and filling themselves with turkey, wine and chocolate before curling up on the sofa. The following day, they went to Belle's house early to put up decorations, move anything breakable out of sight and prepare the house for an invasion by revellers. Emma had the idea of lighting the barbecue to provide a heat source outside for those seeking an escape, and they managed to find a couple of bags of charcoal left over from the summer to fill it with. Ruby cleared the kitchen table that would hold the food and bottles, setting out the drinks along with bowls of chips, dips and nuts, and Belle prepared some chicken drumsticks and cheese straws, putting them in the oven to cook. By the time that seven o'clock was approaching, the house was ready, the food was mostly cooked and the girls went to get dressed.

Belle piled her hair up on her head, leaving tendrils to curl around her face. She had decided to wear a dark red wrap dress, a colour that matched her lipstick, gold heels, and the necklace and earrings her father had given her. When she went downstairs, she saw that things were almost ready, and felt a tiny thrill of excitement. Ruby was wearing red too, but her dress was unsurprisingly much brighter and shorter. Snow was in a white shift dress with a high neckline and little silver kitten-heels. Emma fiddled with the stereo while Ruby added another bottle of vodka to the punch-bowl, the liquid within a lurid purple colour from the grape and blueberry juice added to dilute the neat alcohol. She threw the empty bottle into the trash, grinning as she sampled the punch.

"Tastes pretty harmless," she said with delight. "I bet it kicks like a mule."

Belle made a mental note to avoid the punch. She poured herself a gin and tonic instead, savouring the refreshing taste as she added a slice of lemon to the glass. "Plastic glasses and paper plates," announced Emma, holding up some of each as she went to the table, clad in leather pants and a black halter.

"Good idea," said Snow fervently. "No breakages, no washing-up."

Belle and Snow began setting out the food; guests had been invited to bring food or drink as they chose, but there were plenty of nibbles to be going on with if everyone chose to bring alcohol. The doorbell rang at regular intervals as the guests arrived, and the girls alternated door duty between themselves. Soon the kitchen was crowded with chattering guests, Ruby was flirting with Billy the mechanic, and Emma was adding more bottles to the rapidly-disappearing punch, which was now an unappealing brown colour from the Coke that had been tipped in. August arrived with a large square glass dish of some sort of dessert, that Belle hurriedly made room in the fridge for. The music was turned up, and people started spilling outside in the freezing air to escape the hot crush of bodies.

Belle looked up as Ruby came running out into the garden, eyes bright but nervous.

"Archie's here!" she hissed, almost wringing her hands. "What do I do?"

"Talk to him," suggested Snow, but Ruby shook her head.

"I can't, I'm not drunk enough."

"You weren't drunk the last time you talked to him," pointed out Belle. "Just get your ass in there and say hello. It doesn't have to be anything meaningful. Go interact."

Ruby pulled a face, clearly in two minds, and Snow actually pushed her back towards the kitchen. Belle shook her head.

"I've never seen her so worked up before," she said, amused. "How much punch has she had?"

"Probably too much, judging by what went into it," sighed Snow. Belle gave her a curious look.

"Are you okay? You seem a little down tonight."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," said Snow hurriedly. "I just need to get another drink."

"Your wish is my command," announced Jefferson, leaping out of the kitchen, sweeping them an extravagant bow and making them giggle. He handed Snow a glass of wine and proceeded to put his arms around their shoulders. "Now, ladies, can you tell me who might be interested in a wild night filled with passion and no-strings fun?"

"What, apart from you?" said Snow, amused. "I'd say to try Ruby, but I think she's otherwise engaged."

"I don't see why I can't have all of you at once," he said, with a sigh, and laughed as Belle and Snow made revolted faces. "Clearly, there is a distinct lack of taste from this quarter this evening." He released them and pirouetted back to the door. "Great punch, by the way."

Belle and Snow exchanged glances, rolling their eyes.

* * *

It was Emma that answered the door to Gold at precisely eight-thirty and looked him up and down as though he had some sort of communicable disease.

"Great, you made it," she said sarcastically, and he gave her a cold smile.

"I would have hated to disappoint you with my absence, Miss Swan."

She put her head to one side, eyeing his outfit. "Jeez, Gold, do you even _own_ anything but suits?"

"Well, I don't sleep in them, if that's what you mean," he said dryly.

"Uh-huh," she remarked flatly, then sighed and began pointing behind her, indicating with outstretched arms like a flight attendant. "Kitchen's that way, bathroom's upstairs, garden's out back for anyone having a sneaky cigarette or a cool-off. Don't drink the punch if you want to leave here with your dignity intact. Anyone who throws up, cleans up. Oh, and Belle's making nachos. I don't recommend disturbing her when she's cooking after a few drinks, you could end up with it all over you." She looked him up and down with a sudden grin. "Actually, the sight of you with nachos all down your suit would be hysterical, so, yeah – go and give Belle a hand."

He gave her a withering look, and listened to her chuckling as he pushed past her, bottles tucked under his arm. The house seemed to be full of milling bodies, most of whom he knew, in various states of dress, the majority well on their way to a memorable hangover. His eyes cast from left to right as he took in the guests, their attire, their interactions and the secrets they were trying to hide. His first instinct was to find Belle, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to do a little people-watching and work out the weaknesses of those around him. Take the schoolteacher for instance. Dressed like a sacrificial virgin but clearly for the benefit of a man. The only question was, would it be the one he suspected? Putting his bottles down on the kitchen table, he poured himself a glass of whisky before everyone else could drink it and decided to follow her out into the hall. Somewhat flustered from pushing through the crowd, Snow answered the door to an insistent ring, and her face broke into a beaming smile.

"David," she said happily, and leaned forward. The local veterinary surgeon put his hands on Snow's shoulders and kissed her on the cheek in a chaste, friendly manner. Her brow furrowed, and she drew back to look at him.

"Thanks for inviting us, Snow," came a warm female voice from behind him.

"Kathryn?" squeaked Snow, her voice going up a couple of octaves. She covered her discomfort by hugging the other woman, then felt like a total hypocrite and pulled back quickly, ushering the couple into the house with a wide smile that was starting to feel forced. Turning her head in confusion, she noticed Gold eyeing her knowingly. He raised his glass to her with a smirk and she blushed.

He spent the first hour or so nursing his drink and finding out what others were trying to hide by a mixture of careful observation of his own and gossip from Jefferson, delivered in quick sentences as they passed one another in the hallway or kitchen. He discovered for himself that not only was Snow having an affair with the vet, but she hadn't told her best friends. He suspected guilt and the fear of condemnation, and could have told her that they would merely be worried about her getting hurt. From the look in her eyes, Ruby was clearly half-way in love with her psychology professor, and he seemed to return the feelings in his own shy, bumbling fashion, but as neither of them would act on it without some severe pushing from an outside source, there would be no happy ever after from that quarter. Tom Clark the pharmacist was, quite obviously, a functioning alcoholic, which made Gold concerned over what he actually gave to people when they brought in their prescriptions. He made a mental note to speak to him next rent day. He had no intention of being given the wrong medication if the man was having an off-day. Having spotted several illicit couples making their indiscretions more obvious than they would otherwise have been by carefully avoiding one another, he made his way through to the kitchen. Belle was busy taking the nachos and trays of cooked chicken legs from the oven, carrying them to the table for the drunken revellers to fall upon. He watched her from the doorway, an apron tied over her dark red dress, her face a little flushed from the exertion, and was pleased when she wiped her hands and put her apron aside, going to the table to fill her own plate. She cast an anxious eye around as she did, and met his gaze with a sudden smile. He raised his glass to her, and suppressed a feeling of disappointment as she took her plate outside into the winter air to cool off. A familiar voice from behind him made his eyes widen, and he turned to face Regina, in a black sheath dress that showed off her figure perfectly, clutching Graham's hand and gazing around curiously, her lip curling slightly as she looked around the house.

"Mr Gold," said Graham pleasantly. "It's nice to see you."

"Likewise, Professor Hunter," he said. "You've arrived just in time to sample the food. I should avoid the punch, by the way, if you wish to leave here in an upright position."

Graham laughed. "I learned to avoid punch when I was a student after a particularly bad experience, so I see no reason to change that view now." He nodded politely, squeezing Regina's hand as he prepared to pull her past Gold. "If you'll excuse me, I must thank Belle for inviting me."

"Of course. I believe she's in the garden," he said smoothly, noting Regina's glare as she passed. Well, that would just make Belle's night.

* * *

"You know Gold's here, don't you?" said Emma, sipping her wine. "Stalking around the place smirking at everyone like he knows all their dirty secrets."

"He probably does," shrugged Belle. Snow eyed her knowingly.

"So, how come you're out here and not talking to him?"

Belle fidgeted nervously. "I don't know. First social situation with no boyfriend or work to put up as a barrier?"

"I'll be a barrier if you need one," offered Emma, squeezing her shoulder. "If he creeps you out, let me know and I'll kick him in the crotch. As a guy-repellent, that's a doozy."

Belle chuckled. "Thanks, but I doubt it's necessary. Besides, he doesn't creep me out. I just feel…" She paused, biting her lip. "I'm not sure, that's the problem."

"Describe it," prompted Snow.

"Okay…" Belle paused again, looking into her wine as though it would provide inspiration. "I can't stop thinking about him. When he looks at me it's like he can see into my soul or something." Her face took on a dreamy expression that made Emma nudge Snow in amusement. "His eyes are incredible, like deep dark pools. He makes my stomach sort of flip and my heart thump, and whenever he touches me it's like this electricity goes through me…"

Emma groaned, raising her eyes to the heavens. "Jeez, Belle, would you just go jump the guy, already? We heard what you said about Gary. A night of fun in the sack would do you the world of good."

"Plus, Ruby always said older guys are great in bed," added Snow, with a grin.

"I don't know if _that's_ what I want," protested Belle, blushing, and hearing the lie on her tongue. "I find him equally bloody annoying at times, and we're always fighting. Besides, what if it's just – rebound stuff?"

"For there to be a rebound you would have had to be in love with Gary and sad that it was over," pointed out Snow firmly.

"And if you're fighting, there has to be passion there somewhere, much as it grosses me out," added Emma. "Next time you fight, try kissing him."

Belle's brow crinkled. "Well, it's too confusing to make a decision about after several gins," she said crossly, and Snow gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze.

"Belle." She turned at the sound of Graham's voice, and her smile froze in place as her eyes met Regina's.

"Miss French," the older woman said coldly. Belle refused to drop her gaze or be unpleasant, reminding herself that it was Christmas.

"Ms Mills," she acknowledged. "So good of you to come. Please help yourself to food and a drink, there's plenty in the kitchen."

"Try the punch," added Emma, sipping her wine and sharing an amused glance with Belle. Regina scowled at both of them, and made her way back into the house as Belle introduced Emma to Graham, noting the spark in his eyes as he ran them over her.

Regina ladled punch into two cups, tasting one and wrinkling her nose. She opted for a glass of wine instead, although she doubted that anything the French girl could afford would be anything she wanted to drink.

"Partying with your staff, dearie? This is a new social low for you, isn't it?" His dry voice made her want to grind her teeth, and she straightened up, turning to face him, that small infuriating smile on his face.

"Gold," said Regina flatly. "What the hell are you doing here? Aren't you a little old to be crashing parties?"

He smiled. "I was invited, Ms Mills. I would guess you're Professor Hunter's 'plus one', am I right?"

She scowled at him. "I have every right to be here," she said belligerently, and he shook his head, tutting quietly.

"So defensive," he said sadly. "Anyone would think you were not well-liked in this town."

"Well, you of all people should know that I don't give a damn what people think of me," she said, eyes flashing, and he chuckled.

"You never were a very good liar," he remarked. Regina pursed her lips as she noticed Belle pass by, heading for the lounge. Gold's eyes followed her hungrily, and Regina smirked.

"Stalking's a new look for you, Gold," she said sweetly. "Is that why you came? To make sure your little Miss French didn't get up to anything?"

"If you're asking whether I'm protecting my investment, we may be in agreement," he said blandly. She rolled her eyes with a knowing smile, taking a drink.

"I hear she broke up with her boyfriend," she said. "Such a shame, they seemed so well-suited."

"Evidently not," he remarked, taking a sip of his drink. She watched him, tapping a red-lacquered fingernail against her lips.

"I haven't seen her spending much time with _you_ though," she said cuttingly. "Still, I suppose the house is full of handsome young men just _dying_ for a taste of her charms. I guess it must be hard for you to compete with that." Her lips widened in a false smile as she looked him up and down disparagingly, but he merely shrugged.

"We're not involved, Ms Mills," he said lightly. "And although we work together, we're hardly joined at the hip." He gestured with his glass. "Speaking of non-existent relationships, I see you've let your pet off the leash."

Regina turned in the direction he was pointing, her brows drawing down as she noticed Graham in deep discussion with Emma. Suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed, Emma joining in, her eyes sparkling.

"You know, I don't believe I've ever seen him so animated in conversation," mused Gold, rubbing his chin and giving her a dark glinting smile. "Clearly Miss Swan has some quality that you lack. I can think of several that spring to mind, of course..."

"He's being polite," she said coldly, and he smiled.

"Actually, it looks as though he's enjoying himself," he said, relishing the fact that he was taunting her. "Perhaps he's not quite as devoted to you as you think."

"Hmm," she said, with a sudden smirk. "Of course, in a few hours' time I'll be in bed with the object of _my_ desire, Gold. Where exactly will _you_ be?" Her smirk widened into a grin. "Where will _she_ be, I wonder? You know how these parties can get out of hand."

"Would you care to explain your sudden interest in my sex-life?" he asked lightly. "I have to confess that your inappropriate questions disturb me somewhat. If you wish to offer yourself to me, I can assure you that I have no interest in your dubious charms."

Regina looked revolted, dark eyes flashing. "Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped. "I'm merely concerned that the girl doesn't have someone take advantage of her in her current fragile emotional state." Her honeyed voice dripped with insincerity. "You know how desperate heartbreak can make people. It would be a shame if she did something she came to bitterly regret."

His fingers tightened on the handle of his cane, but his face remained calm. "I have every faith that Miss French can resist her baser instincts far more effectively than you, dearie."

She barked a humourless laugh. "No doubt that's why her boyfriend dumped her," she said dismissively.

"I seem to recall that it was the other way around," he said mildly, and she snorted.

"So you think she'll come to _you_? You're delusional. What makes you think she'd ever lower herself to touch the likes of you?"

"I've been told I have good instincts," he said. Inwardly he was seething at her, but he ensured that he didn't let it show. She seemed to be annoyed that she wasn't getting a rise out of him.

"Perhaps I'm wrong," she shrugged. "Perhaps she's changed her tastes from tall, handsome and athletic to…" She gestured to him, her finger moving up and down his form in a derisory manner and making his jaw clench. She smirked. "Maybe obsessive and paranoid is a real turn-on."

"No doubt you'd know," he sneered, and turned on his heel to walk through to the hallway, gripping his cane tightly so he wouldn't swap it for Regina's throat. He heard her laugh softly behind him, and pushed open the door to the lounge, trying not to grind his teeth at letting her get under his skin. Belle was throwing some more logs onto the fire and straightened up as she finished, dusting off her hands. She sensed a presence behind her, and gasped as she felt a touch on her shoulder. She turned slowly, her heart thumping as she came face to face with Gold.

"Good evening," he said softly, looking her over as though he wanted to eat her. She felt herself blushing under his gaze, recalling what Emma had said to her.

"Hi," she faltered. He was looking very good, his suit plain black with a deep red shirt and a dark tie. It was almost as though he had known what she would be wearing so he could match the colour of his shirt to her dress. She noticed that he had used the cufflinks she had bought him, and was pleased to see how good they looked on him.

"Are you having fun?" she asked, and he pulled a face.

"I've managed to avoid the punch, and by the state of some of your guests, I think that was a wise choice," he said. "I've seen some interesting sights this evening."

She giggled. "I can imagine. Emma had to throw a couple of Leroy's friends out after they threw up in the sink. Do we know how to throw a classy party or what?"

"I see that Regina's here," he remarked, and it was Belle's turn to grimace.

"Well, I can assure you I didn't invite her. I guess she came with Graham."

He grunted. "He seems to have hit it off with Miss Swan."

"Really?" Belle giggled. "That won't please Regina. Remind me to dare her to kiss him."

"Is a dare the only way to charm a kiss out of you fair ladies?" he asked with a grin.

She returned his grin cheekily. "Well, at least until after New Year," she said pertly, and span away from him before her feelings could grow any more confusing. She hurried through to the kitchen to refill her glass.

"So, I try to warn you away from him, and what do you do? Accept a job offer and spend several nights a week in his company," Jefferson drawled, rolling his eyes at her as he lounged against the doorframe. Belle giggled.

"He's really not so bad once you get to know him," she said, blushing a little. Jefferson eyed her curiously.

"Oh? Do tell."

Belle looked down for a moment, turning her wineglass between her fingers. "Well, he is at least honest, sometimes to the point of being brutal, I admit, but even so, it's an admirable quality." Jefferson looked amused, and she continued. "Plus he's clever, and funny, and we get the best tables whenever we go out." His eyebrows shot up at that point, and she giggled again. "I'm kidding, you know I'm not that shallow! Let me think of something you can appreciate – his wardrobe?"

"Oh, the guy knows how to wear a suit, no doubt about that," nodded Jefferson, sipping his drink. "Do I have to be concerned for your virtue, my little Belle?"

Belle snorted. "The girls and I have made a pact not to get involved with men this Christmas, Jefferson. So, no. Virtue safe."

He chuckled, and turned away as Ruby bounced over and pulled Belle to the side. Walking through the doorway to the lounge he brushed by Gold and murmured "no luck until New Year" as he passed.

* * *

Later, Gold decided to wander out into the garden, where he spent a few minutes watching the interactions of Emma, Regina, Graham, Snow and August. Emma was standing very close to August, but was turned away from him, as though she wasn't that keen on him touching her. _At least, not in public_, he thought wryly, picking up on exactly what the nature of their relationship was. She was talking to Graham about music they both liked, and Regina interrupted every now and then with a snide comment, but Gold noticed that Graham's eyes were a little wider and brighter whenever he was speaking to Emma. He filed the information away for later use. Snow slipped away, no doubt hoping for a moment alone with her lover away from the eyes of his wife.

"I think we should be going, Graham," said Regina sharply, all of a sudden. Graham's face fell a little, and Gold smiled. He really was an open book. He said goodnight to Emma and August, and nodded to Gold as he passed. Regina gave a curt goodnight to the others, and glared at him as she drew near.

"I'm going home, Gold," she announced, then gave him a knowing smile. "Looks like you'll be leaving alone."

"Hmm," he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "Remember that he'll be thinking of _her_ when he's with you."

She jerked backwards, glaring at him, and stalked after Graham.

"Well, thank God the wicked witch has left," remarked Emma, draining her glass.

"C'mon, she wasn't that bad," said August fairly. "She did at least allow Graham to speak to us."

"Yeah, and what the hell is that about?" demanded Emma, throwing up her hands. "It's like he's under some sort of spell. D'you think he's one of those guys that goes in for ritual humiliation?"

"If that were the case, he wouldn't have talked to you," said Gold mildly, from the shadows. Emma frowned at him.

"What are you doing there?" she asked, and he grinned.

"Lurking," he said darkly, and she huffed in amusement.

"No doubt."

"Drink?" said August then, and she nodded, thrusting her glass at him. August walked through to the kitchen, and Emma folded her arms across her chest and stared back at Gold.

"What?" she demanded, somewhat aggressively, and he smiled.

"I was just marvelling over the myriad of human relationships I've discovered this evening," he said. "Husbands cheating on their wives, boyfriends cheating on their girlfriends, and women using sex to control their employees."

"You forgot older guys obsessing over young women they're employing," she remarked flatly, and he gave her a twisted smile.

"Well, when it comes to bizarre relationships, I think you beat me hands down," he said quietly. "You use Mr Booth as – what is the vernacular – your fuckbuddy, and yet the moment you set eyes on the dashing Professor Hunter you are simply overcome with lust."

Emma reddened, partly with anger. "You bastard!"

"My apologies," he said insincerely. "Perhaps I have you all wrong. Perhaps it was really love at first sight."

He turned on his heel, striding slowly towards the kitchen, and Emma glared after him as he walked away. No matter what Belle said about what attracted her, she just couldn't see it. Except for the part where he was annoying. She totally got that.

* * *

Gold noted from his watch that it was approaching midnight. Some of the revellers had left, some had passed out in the kitchen, and he picked his way through the bodies with a curling lip, making his way to the lounge for a respite from the noise and heat and the music that made him want to jab a pen in his ear. It was then that he noticed Belle was in the room, looking over the books on her shelves with a drink in her hand. He watched her for a moment while she was unaware of him. He regretted that they had spent so little time together that evening. He had found the sexual intrigues of his fellow townsfolk interesting, to be sure, but he had much rather be with her. She looked lovely, the dress a surprisingly sexy departure from her usual style, strands of dark hair curling around the nape of her neck becomingly.

"Why on earth are you hiding away in here?" Gold's voice from the doorway surprised her, and she turned to face him, rolling her glass between her fingers a little nervously.

"I wanted a few minutes to myself," she admitted. "It's a lot of fun, but I needed some quiet time. I was thinking about something."

"I see." He watched her for a moment. "Would you like me to go?"

"No, it's okay." She put down her glass. "I need to mull things over in my head. I can do that with you here."

He smiled back at her, and they stood in silence for a moment. Music was filtering through from the kitchen, a blues track, the beat slower than the awful stuff that had previously been playing, and Gold spread the fingers of his left hand, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"May I?" he asked, and she blushed slightly, nodding acquiescence. He put down his drink and leant his cane against the sofa as she approached him, then took her hands in his, pulling her closer.

"Do you know how to dance?" she faltered, and he smiled.

"As long as we don't try anything too adventurous, I think we'll be fine."

She smiled, and let her hand slide up his arm to rest on his shoulder, as his fingers curled around hers, his other hand at her waist.

"I'm glad you came," she said, as they began to sway to the music.

"I wasn't sure you'd want me to," he admitted, and she laughed softly.

"Of course I did," she said gently. "I meant what I said the other day. I was angry that you knew before me, that's all. I would always want you here."

His smile widened, and she rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh. He could feel her relax into him, letting down her guard a little, and he drew her a little closer, breathing in the scent of roses and sweet musk that seemed to permeate her hair and skin.

"How are you feeling after – everything?" he asked quietly, and felt her smile.

"Getting better. I've deleted about twenty texts that Gary's sent me since it happened, and about a dozen messages."

"An excellent start at deleting him from your life, I imagine," he remarked, and she giggled, pulling back and looking up at him with her blue eyes shining and a delightfully playful expression.

"Yeah, I left him one message saying it was over. Managed not to yell or swear or anything. You would have been proud of me."

"I don't doubt it," he said quietly, slowly drawing her back to him.

There was silence for a while, as they moved together, their hands joined, bodies pressed flush against one another. Belle breathed in the warm scent of him, feeling light-headed, her feet moving automatically in the slow turn of the dance. She felt so comfortable against him, as though they had been made to fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. His chest was firm, despite his slender frame, and she suspected that he was strong beneath the expensive suit. A part of her wanted to find out exactly what he looked like without it. As the song ended, they came to a halt, and she sighed, pushing back from him a little. Gold was breathing more heavily as he gazed down at her, his eyes black, his aura sparking and crackling. She parted her lips, her own breath quickening, and he slowly reached up and brushed her hair back from her face, cupping her cheek with his hand and sending electricity racing through her.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered. Belle dropped her eyes uncomfortably, taking a step back.

"I'm pretty sure that's not true," she said awkwardly, and he smiled as the next song started.

"Are you calling me a liar?" He drew her close against him again and they continued to move gently to the music.

"You must have seen a lot of beautiful things in your life," she said, linking her fingers through his. "I've seen hundreds in your shop, in the short time I've been there."

His smile disappeared and he looked down at her. "Ah. But true beauty comes from within, does it not? From the soul. And your soul is everything that is pure and clean and good, whereas mine…" His expression was rueful. "Mine is as black as tar."

Belle shook her head, gazing up at him. "I don't believe that," she said softly. "And I never will believe it."

His smile returned. "And that," he whispered, "is what makes you beautiful."

Belle gave him a tremulous smile, and rested her head against his shoulder again. She breathed in with a sigh of contentment, feeling a little dizzy.

"Do you have any idea how good you smell?" she murmured, and his laugh rumbled low in his chest.

"I do believe you're a little tipsy," he said, amused, and she grinned up at him.

"Maybe a little. Planning on taking advantage?"

"I am far too much of a gentleman to take advantage of a lady," he assured her, and laughed again as she pouted. She settled her head against his shoulder again.

"When do you want me back at work?" she asked after a moment, and felt him smile against her hair.

"Shall we say the sixth of January?" he suggested. The sound of his voice was vibrating through his chest, making her body hum. "I have to go to Boston tomorrow, by the way, so the shop will be closed."

She pulled back, looking up at him. "For how long?" she asked curiously.

"Until after the New Year," he affirmed. She pouted a little.

"So, you won't be here for New Year's Eve?" she said teasingly. "Not planning on turning up just to kiss me at midnight?"

He chuckled darkly, pulling her tight against him. "Ah, my sweet Belle!" he breathed, making her shiver. "When I kiss you, it won't be because tradition dictates it. It will be because you want me as much as I want you." His eyes were glinting wickedly, and she blushed and dropped her gaze. They continued to move slowly, not moving from the small circle they were treading out of respect for his bad leg. Belle's mind was starting to whirl.

"I was wondering if you'd have dinner with me on the eleventh," he said casually, and she blinked, doing a quick calculation.

"That's a Saturday," she said, and he nodded. "We don't see one another on Saturdays."

"I'm aware of that. I was not suggesting that we discuss work."

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You mean – like a date?"

"Yes, a date," he supplied gently. There was a moment's silence. Belle felt her heart thumping in her chest, her belly fluttering with anticipation.

"Okay," she said softly, and he smiled.

There was a snort from the doorway, and they turned to see Ruby, shaking her head with her hands on her hips.

"God, would you two just get a room, already!" she said, with a grin, before ducking back out of sight. Belle tried to pull back, embarrassed, and after a moment he regretfully let her go.

"I think – I need another drink," she said awkwardly, before fleeing the room. He sighed, picking his glass back up. He followed her into the kitchen for a refill and found her by the table, pouring herself a large gin with hands that were shaking slightly. He took the glass from her and added ice, tonic and lemon, handing it to her with a smile and earning a delicate blush in return. One step at a time.

Now that the savoury items had been eaten, August removed his dish of dessert from the fridge and put it in the middle of the table alongside a plate of doughnuts that Ruby had filched from Granny's. He announced that it was a new recipe that Marco was going to be putting on the menu of his restaurant, and invited everyone's feedback and the suggestion of a name for the dish. Gold held up a paper plate with two spoons to Belle with a questioning look, and she shook her head.

"I couldn't eat another thing," she said regretfully, so he shrugged, dropping one of the spoons, and served himself a portion. He carried his dessert away from the table and through to the hallway, away from the press of people, Belle following him with their drinks in her hands. Gold leant back against the wall, hooking his cane over his forearm, and prepared to dig into the food. The dessert was a delicious confection of dark chocolate ganache, amaretto-soaked cherries and mascarpone, with crumbled amaretti biscuits delivering a wonderful texture. Gold closed his eyes as he let the flavours roll around his mouth, and when he opened them Belle was watching him hungrily. He put another spoonful in his mouth, enjoying the look in her eyes and wishing it was directed at him rather than the dessert. The third spoonful seemed to break her resolve.

"Okay, hand it over," she said briskly, and he smirked, moving the plate closer towards him.

"I believe I offered you the 'one dessert, two spoons' option," he said lightly, cutting another piece with the edge of his spoon. She pouted prettily, and he relented, holding up a spoonful of chocolate, cream and cherries. He watched intently as she took it into her mouth, letting a noise of pleasure issue up from the base of her throat. Her eyes were closed as he drew out the spoon, her full lips parted, a slight flush in her cheeks. He found himself wondering if that was what she looked like when she came.

"My God, that's amazing," she purred. "I should tell Marco to call it 'better than sex'."

"A bold claim," he said, eyebrows twitching. "Perhaps your experiences haven't been all that satisfying. My condolences." He licked the spoon, imagining that he could taste her on it.

She gave him a look, managing not to flush, and nudged his arm in admonishment, causing him to drop the spoon with a sound of vexation.

"Sorry," she said, biting her lip. "I'll get you another."

"No matter," he said quietly, dipping his long index finger into the dessert and scooping up a lump of chocolate and mascarpone. She watched, oddly fascinated, as he sucked the sweet confection from his finger, and felt her breathing quicken slightly. He dipped the finger once more into the creamy dessert, and plucked a cherry between finger and thumb, holding it up for her inspection with a raised eyebrow, daring her, taunting her. She surprised him by leaning forwards and taking it in her mouth, her lips gently sucking his fingertips. He gazed at her intently, noticing her dilated pupils, her darkened eyes, and recognised for the first time that his feelings were not entirely one-sided. He brushed her lower lip with his finger, and Belle licked the sweetness from it, her small pink tongue curling around him in a highly erotic manner. He was growing painfully hard, his breathing laboured, but she suddenly dropped her eyes and blushed, pulling away from him.

"I – I'm sorry – I'll – just get you another spoon," she stammered, almost running to the kitchen. Equally revelling in the feel of her lips against him and cursing his luck that she was not quite ready, he waited for her to return. She held the spoon up before her as though she was prepared to fight him with it, her blue eyes wide, and he stuck it into what was left of the dessert with a smile, offering her a taste. Belle shook her head reluctantly, and watched closely as he ate the rest and languidly licked the remainder of the sweetness from his fingers. He thought of running his tongue over her skin, of tasting the sweetness she could offer, and smiled as the look in her eyes told him that she knew what he was imagining. He was enjoying making her blush.

"I should go," he said quietly, when he had finished, and was pleased to see that she looked disappointed.

"Will I see you soon?" she asked, her voice faltering slightly, and he smiled.

"As I said, after New Year," he affirmed. "The New Year offers many things. Endless possibilities. We just need to take advantage of them." He smiled at her as he pushed away from the wall, and she took his plate, reaching up to brush his cheek with her lips.

"Until the New Year," she said softly, her eyes flashing at him. He gave her a small bow, and walked out of the door to where Dover was patiently waiting with the car. Belle sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as Ruby approached her.

"You okay?" she asked, and Belle nodded.

"Actually, yes," she said. "I think I've made a decision."

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know, I'm teasing you! The dessert thing was totally shameless, and I'm not a bit sorry. Trust me, we're getting there…**

**Coming up: Darkness enters Belle's life. **


	12. Out With the Old

**A/N: so pleased with the response to the last chapter, although some of you told me off for the dessert thing! Thanks to all who followed and favourited.**

**Claire: sorry for teasing! They will get there eventually.**

**Ellie: so glad you liked it. More to come!**

**Erik'sTrueAngel (thanks for making me laugh!), michellelramsey1, RoxyMoron, crazykat77, cheesyteal'c, JustBFree, jewel415, All Hallow's Eve31, emmaleewhittaker, Twyla Mercedes, ecinspired, Helena Menezes: thanks for your reviews and continued support. Here's the update as promised. I'm afraid it's a bit angsty.**

* * *

The clean-up next day took a long time, but the girls weren't too hungover, except for Ruby, and by midday the house was clean and there were bags of empty bottles to be disposed of.

"Great party," said Ruby with satisfaction, as they sat around the table with cups of coffee.

"So, what's going on with you and Archie?" asked Emma, nudging her. Ruby actually blushed.

"Nothing," she muttered. "He's my teacher, I can't do anything until I finish my course. Once I get my degree he won't know what hit him."

Snow whistled. "The waiting sucks. What will you do until then?"

Ruby shrugged. "The usual. Go on dates with losers to scratch my itch and have fun with you guys."

"Speaking of fun," said Belle. "New Year's Eve. Rabbit Hole?"

Emma grimaced. "I can't, I'm on duty. The only time you'll see me is if I have to arrest someone, which is highly likely. You guys have fun though."

* * *

On New Year's Eve, Belle put the finishing touches to her hair and put on her lipstick. She was wearing a short, flared black dress, her necklace and earrings. She had chosen shoes that were dainty, but which she could still dance in. Ruby was still dressing, so Belle made her way downstairs to wait for Snow to arrive so that they could go to the Rabbit Hole together. It was only seven o'clock, but if they turned up early they could be sure of getting a booth for the evening. Belle picked up a book as she waited, and had read two chapters when the doorbell rang.

"I'm nearly ready!" yelled Ruby from upstairs. Belle grinned and went to the door, assuming Snow had arrived. She pulled it open with a smile on her face, which died as she saw two police officers standing there, Emma hovering behind them in uniform. Her heart started thumping loud in her chest; she could feel it pounding in her ears, and she suddenly recalled Gold's tale of a similar visit twenty years earlier. She shook her head.

"What's happened?" she asked, shocked at how small and faint her voice was.

"Belle French?" asked one of the officers, and she nodded. "May we come in?"

She simply stood there, frozen in place.

"Belle," said Emma gently. Her eyes were frightened, full of sorrow and pity. Belle couldn't bear to look at her, but Emma put her hand on her shoulder, making her flinch, and steered her towards the lounge into a chair. Belle could feel herself starting to shake. Whatever it was, she didn't want to hear it. But she must.

"Belle," said one of the officers kindly. "I'm afraid we have bad news. It's your father. He's been murdered. Shot. We think it was a robbery that went wrong."

_Murdered. Shot._ The words repeated inside her head, ringing against the walls of her skull. Images came to her unbidden of him bleeding on the floor. The officer was still speaking to her, but she heard nothing, simply sat there shaking and staring into space. She could hear Ruby in the doorway letting out a muffled sob.

"Yes," she suddenly, as something the officer said hit home. "I'll go with you to see him. Have you reached my mother?"

The policemen exchanged glances. "Not yet, her number was just going to voicemail."

"She's in Maui," said Belle calmly. "I can give you the number of her travel agent." She stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I think I should change."

She walked to her room like a zombie, swapping the party dress for jeans and a shirt with comfortable boots. Donning her coat, she followed the officers out, submitting to a hug from Emma, who apologised for not being able to go with her. Ruby, however, came flying out of the house and bundled into the back of the police car with Belle, and they set off for Boston and what awaited her.

* * *

The identification was awful, but not nearly as terrible as Belle had anticipated. Her father just looked as though he was sleeping, although she could tell that he was gone, that his body was merely a shell. Gone was the light, the animation in his face. He would never again tickle her ribs or tap her on the nose or tease her over something. Now all she had was her mother. After Belle had confirmed that the man in the morgue was her father, she sat down in an interview room with a detective, who was fairly old and stank of cigarettes, but had a kindly face. He explained that her parents' neighbours had heard gunshots and had called it in, and that when the police arrived they found the house in uproar and Maurice lying in his own blood.

"So, you think someone shot him deliberately?" ventured Ruby, clutching Belle's hand. He shrugged.

"Perhaps. Perhaps they only intended to burgle the house, and he got in the way. It's hard to tell what's been taken at this stage. It's possible there was another motive."

Belle looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated. "Miss French, were you aware that your father had gambling debts?"

She felt as though he'd punched her. "What? My father doesn't gamble!"

"We found evidence of casino gambling in his study," said the man gently. "I'm aware that he's had some money issues in the past."

"Not gambling," said Belle firmly. "He's bad with money, that's all." She was suddenly aware that she was still speaking about him in the present tense. That was going to take some getting used to.

"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt him?" the officer persisted gently, and she shook her head, suddenly tearful.

"Does she have to do this now?" demanded Ruby, with a frown, putting her arm around Belle. He sat back with a sigh.

"I guess not," he admitted. "But please, Belle, if you remember anything else, give us a call, okay?"

She took his card with a watery nod, and allowed Ruby to pull her up and walk her out of the station.

* * *

Belle was silent on the way back to Storybrooke, and Ruby was good enough to leave her to her own thoughts, simply holding her hand for comfort. It was the early hours of the morning when they arrived home, and Ruby texted Snow and Emma to let them know they had gotten back safely. The New Year held no joy for Belle.

"Do you want a drink?" asked Ruby gently, and she shook her head.

"I think I'll just go to bed," she said despondently. "Maybe I'll wake up and find this has all been a nightmare."

"Do you want me to sit with you?" asked Ruby, worried for her, and Belle smiled wanly.

"No, honey. You go to sleep. I'll be okay."

She was climbing into bed in her PJs when she realised that she didn't want Ruby, or Snow or Emma, to see her break down, to comfort her. She really wanted Gold, to feel his arms around her, to bury herself in his embrace and breathe in his scent and have him kiss her senseless so that she forgot about everything. But he was in Boston, and would be for another couple of days. She curled into a ball, trying to make her mind go blank so she wouldn't be haunted by the sight of her father's face, but she lay awake for a long time before exhaustion took her.

* * *

The call came through to Gold from Emma when he was on his way back to Storybrooke, and his heart clenched for Belle. Changing his plans, he drove straight to her house, pulling up outside and knocking firmly. Ruby opened the door, staring out at him with wide eyes. She looked almost frightened, biting her lip as she looked him over.

"May I see her?" he asked, and she sighed and nodded.

"Upstairs, first on the right," she said reluctantly.

"How is she?"

"Not good," she said, pulling a face. "She just sits there. I can't get her to eat much. She just drinks tea and _sits_. Her mother's called twice to try to talk to her about the funeral, but she refuses to come down."

"I see." He sighed and prepared to mount the stairs. "Thank you, Miss Lucas."

"No problem," she said. "I have to get to work, anyway, so I'm glad there's someone to sit with her."

He knocked at the bedroom door, then turned the handle and pushed it open slowly. She was not curled in a weeping ball on the bed, he was pleased to see, but sitting on the wide windowsill with her knees bent, bare feet tapping rhythmically. She was wearing sweat pants and a tiny black T-shirt, which made her look like a teenager, and even paler than usual. She slid from her seat as he entered, and his heart thumped painfully as she flew at him, a great-eyed spectre. He barely had time to open his arms before she threw herself against his chest. He had not appreciated how tiny she was, how fragile, her slender arms around him and small, firm breasts pushed against him. He held her close, as that seemed to be what she wanted.

"Hey," he said awkwardly, patting her hair uncertainly. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I heard," he added, so she wouldn't have to say it.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered, and began to cry, properly, with a lot of tears. His arms tightened around her as she wept against his chest for what seemed like hours. He had never been good with crying women; one of the things he admired most about Belle was that she rarely cried. Fortunately, she didn't seem to expect anything from him but to be held as she cried herself out. His leg was killing him, but he stroked her hair and whispered comforting words to her. Eventually, her sobs slowed and stopped, but she continued to take sharp, hitching breaths against him. His shirt was wet with her tears, and she mumbled an apology as she drew back. In answer, he flourished the silk square in his pocket and dabbed away the tears on her face, earning a wobbly smile in return. He then gently took her face in his hands, looking into her reddened eyes. Belle bit her lip nervously. She felt sure that he would kiss her, and at that moment she welcomed it, wanted the comfort of a human touch. He leant forward and gently pressed his lips to her forehead, and this gesture of tenderness made further tears fall from her eyes. The handkerchief was flourished once more.

"Now," he said quietly. "I want you to go and take a shower, get yourself cleaned up, and then eat something, do you understand?"

"I'm not hungry," she said automatically.

"No," he agreed. "But you still need to eat something. Now, off with you." He shooed her to the bathroom.

She stood in the shower for a long time, firstly scrubbing every inch of her skin until she was pink from head to foot, then simply standing under the hot water and letting it cascade over her as she leant against the wall, her mind blessedly blank. When she emerged, the bathroom was filled with steam. She looked at the fuzzy reflection in the mirror; her eyes were indistinct dark blobs in the pale, blurred oval of her face, like paw-prints in snow. She swept her hand across the mirror, making the condensation run down her reflection like fresh tears.

* * *

Gold poked around the kitchen, trying to find something to cook for her. There wasn't much in the way of fresh food, and he suspected that Belle usually sorted out the groceries. He sliced potatoes into wedges, brushing them with oil and sprinkling them with salt and paprika. He put them in the oven, then found vegetables, herbs and eggs, and began chopping onions, mushrooms and peppers to fry. He worked quickly, mulling over what had occurred between him and Belle. She had expected him to kiss her, he knew that. He knew when he looked into her eyes that he could have done so and she would have welcomed it. He had wanted to. He had wanted to kiss her and peel the clothes from her body and do things to her that would leave her breathless and trembling and make her forget her pain, and she would have let him. But he hadn't. When he finally took her, and take her he would, he wanted her to be thinking of him and him alone. He wanted her to burn for him, not seek solace for the death of a loved one. He beat eggs in a bowl and added seasoning, then poured the mixture into the pan with the vegetables and left it to cook gently, digging in the fridge for another egg and mixing it with olive oil, seasoning and white wine vinegar to make mayonnaise, to which he added a crushed garlic clove. He could hear the shower turn off when he turned the potatoes and sprinkled the top of the frittata with grated cheese before popping it in the oven in its pan to melt the cheese.

Belle came into the kitchen, clad in clean jeans and a tight sweater, and smiled at the sight of Gold in one of her aprons, washing up dirty pots at the sink. She breathed in the savoury smells issuing from the oven and suddenly realised she was hungry. He wiped his hands on the apron and shooed her into a chair, taking the spiced potato wedges and the bubbling frittata from the oven and placing them on the table with a dressed salad and the garlic mayonnaise. Belle looked everything over.

"I have to say, I'm impressed," she said truthfully, and he smiled.

"I'm not completely helpless," he said dryly, and she returned his smile. He poured them both a glass of cold white wine as she served up.

"This is really good," she said, dipping a potato into the mayonnaise. "Thank you for looking after me. I do feel a little better."

"No matter. I'm sorry I couldn't get here earlier."

She sighed, spearing salad with her fork. "I knew you were on business. I didn't like to disturb you. But I did need you." She blushed as she said it, not meeting his eye.

"Well, here I am," he said softly, and she smiled, flicking her eyes up at him. They ate and drank in silence for a while.

"Ruby said that your mother has been trying to talk to you about the funeral," he said carefully, and Belle pulled a face.

"I know, I know, I should call her. I just couldn't face it. She told Ruby it's on Wednesday. I'll have to go up the night before."

"Would you like me to take you?"

She looked up at him then. "Would you? That would be kind."

"It's no problem," he shrugged. "I have a few things I can take care of in the meantime. Kill two birds with one stone, as it were."

Her mouth wobbled slightly at the word 'kill', and he cursed his stupidity, but she didn't dwell on it.

"Thank you," she said softly, and she momentarily squeezed his hand gratefully.

"I think we can cancel our work outings for next week," he added, and she wrinkled her nose before nodding.

"Thanks, I don't think I'd be able to concentrate too much," she admitted. "I don't want to stop working completely, though. It'll give me something to do."

"How about you come to the shop on Friday, then?" he suggested. "You can work as much or as little as you want. I have some new materials for you to look at."

She was interested, despite herself. "Okay," she said, with the ghost of a smile.

* * *

The funeral was dreadful. When she arrived at her parents' house, Belle had to listen to her mother complaining about how the police had only let her return to the house the previous day, once they had finished all of the forensics. She had bemoaned the lack of time she had had to plan the funeral, as though her husband had somehow arranged his own murder and hadn't the decency to forewarn her of it.

"I've had to use caterers, obviously," she said to Belle, sweeping through to the kitchen. "Could you give me a hand tomorrow morning, once they arrive, dear? I've set up the large table in the dining room, but we'll still need to provide drinks.

"Sure," muttered Belle, wanting nothing more than to curl up under the blankets of her bed. Gold had dropped her off, and she was pleased that her mother hadn't seen him, or she would have been asking questions. She wished she had just turned up for the funeral the next day.

"We're going to the church for two o'clock, and then everyone will be coming here afterwards."

"Who's everyone?" asked Belle warily, and her mother turned to her with that beaming smile she didn't trust, putting her hands on her shoulders.

"Oh, just some of our friends, never mind that. What are you going to be wearing?"

"Black," said Belle, confused, and Jeanette sighed.

"Really, Belle, could you not pack something a little less depressing?"

"It's a funeral," said Belle, through gritted teeth. "It's my _father's_ funeral. I hardly think anyone will be expecting me to be partying."

"Well," said her mother soothingly, stroking her hair. "He'd want you to carry on with your life, wouldn't he? He wouldn't want you to mope around. It's made me realise how precious life is, and how we have to grab opportunities with open arms."

Belle sighed. "Mum, if this is one of your attempts to set me up with the odious offspring of one of your friends, so help me…"

"Of course not!" said Jeanette, an offended look on her face. "I just want you to be happy, that's all."

"Then leave me alone," growled Belle under her breath, and stalked away to her bedroom.

* * *

The service made her cry, and she was thoroughly sick of it. She felt as though she had been crying for days. She threw roses onto his coffin as it was lowered into the earth, and turned away from the awful thuds of the earth being thrown in. She noticed the guests giving her sympathetic looks, and wished that they would all just go away. No such luck. Back at the house, she ate little, but the guests fell on the food, talking and laughing as though it were a wedding party, rather than a funeral. Belle couldn't hear a single one of them mention her father. She fulfilled her promise to serve drinks, and had to endure her mother introducing her to a myriad of people, most of whom were men around her own age. She served them drinks and answered their banal questions in monosyllabic responses, hoping that they found her dull enough to leave alone. She didn't want to be there. She wanted to be at home. She wanted Gold.

"Well, my dear, of course it was just _awful_," she heard her mother saying to one of her friends. "But it's not as though I won't manage. Maurice had_ excellent_ insurance. I'm not sure I'll keep the house – too many painful memories." She shuddered. "I may move somewhere warmer; you know how I _loathe_ the winter in New England." The woman – Belle thought it was Mrs Kellerman – nodded sympathetically. Belle ground her teeth, poured herself a large whisky, and stormed outside into the snow. It was growing dark, but she stood by the pond for a long time, looking into the frozen surface. She was starting to shiver, and sipped at her whisky to ward off the cold. Eventually, she heard the crunch of snow behind her. Somehow, she knew it was him. He stood beside her silently, and she heard him taking his coat off. Warmth enveloped her as he draped it around her shoulders, and she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder so that he could put his arm around her.

"I'm glad you're here," she said softly.

"You'll catch cold, dearest," he said, his voice gentle. "Come inside."

Belle snorted. "I don't want to go back in there. I'll throw something at her if I do. It's like she doesn't even care! All she's done all day is try to fix me up with doctors and lawyers and businessmen. I hate it!" She stomped snow from her boots moodily, noticing how numb her feet were growing.

"Come home with me, then," he offered, and she sighed again.

"In a moment." She gestured to the darkening garden in front of her. "This was his favourite spot. He'd sit out here in the summer and read, or just think about things. That tree there, he used to sit underneath it. He said it gave him inspiration. Now Mum's talking about selling the house and I won't even have that to remember him by." She dashed tears from her eyes. She was so tired of crying all the time.

"Come home, Belle," he said gently, squeezing her shoulder, and she nodded, letting him turn her around and walk back towards the house. There were several people watching them, she noticed, and someone tapped her mother on the shoulder and gestured towards them. Belle sighed, and looked at him.

"I'll meet you at the car," she said, handing back his coat. "I'll just grab my bag and coat and be right out."

He nodded, shrugging on his coat, and giving her a small smile as he left.

Belle took a deep breath and entered the house, managing to make it to the stairs without anyone stopping her. She reached her room and threw her few things into her case, sweeping up her moisturiser and make-up from the nightstand. She zipped up the case and managed to get all the way to the front door before her mother waylaid her.

"I'm going home, Mum," she said wearily. "This is too much. I'm tired and I just want to go to bed."

"Alright, dear," said her mother surprisingly. Belle blinked.

"Thank you," she said. Jeanette shrugged.

"Well, you're clearly not in the mood to make the most of the introductions I've made for you. You know, several people have commented on how pretty you are, but if you'd only just smile you could be really beautiful."

Belle felt her insides beginning to boil. "I don't care what they think of me," she said. "That man you introduced me to – Greg? He's repulsive. All he talks about is his job. And he kept trying to look down my dress."

"I'm sure that's not true," said her mother sharply. "He comes from an excellent family and runs his own business very successfully."

"So he couldn't possibly be a pervert," agreed Belle sarcastically.

"Well, you obviously can't organise your own love-life…"

Belle threw up her hands. "Stop trying to control me!"

"I'm not controlling you, darling!" protested Jeanette. "I'm helping you! You finally came to your senses and dumped the gym instructor, so I'm trying to help you back into the dating scene. We'll leave it for now. Maybe when you come and visit again."

_Fat chance of that. _"Look, Mum, I'm going." She leant forward to kiss her mother's cheek.

"Who's the man waiting for you?" she asked, as Belle turned to go. Belle hesitated.

"A friend," she said, because it was true. "And also – kind of my boss."

"Hmm," Jeanette said non-committedly. "He dresses well, I must say. Be careful, dear."

Belle didn't want to know what she meant by that. She gave her mother a hug and left the house, feeling her heart lift a little to be out of the oppressive atmosphere. She sank into the passenger seat of Gold's Cadillac with a sigh, and motioned to him to leave. Her father was gone, she would never see him again, and her mother would never understand her. She wept silently in the darkness as he drove her back to Storybrooke.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for what I've done to poor Belle! Things are a little more cheerful in the next chapter, which should be up by the end of this weekend, if I can write it quickly enough.**

**Coming up: Gold wants to take their relationship to the next level, and Belle is inclined to let him…**


	13. Turning Point

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed and favourited. I decided to give Gold a name in this chapter, but there was no consensus from you guys, and I can't use the ones most people use due to personal issues, so I've reverted to the meaning of names. Therefore I've gone for Marcus, which means warrior, and Alexander, which means defender or protector. So someone who'll do bad things, but for good reasons. I thought it summed Gold up.**

**RoxyMoron, Wondermorena, All Hallow's Eve31, spacecats, Twyla Mercedes, jewel415, JustBFree, cheesyteal'c, emmaleewhittaker, michellelramsey1, ecinspired: thanks for your continued support and encouragement, I couldn't do it without you guys!**

* * *

Belle's eyes were red from crying when Gold pulled up outside her house. He turned to her with a sigh, wiping tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

"Will you be alright?" he asked gently, and she nodded.

"Ruby's there," she said, her voice wobbling, and sure enough he could see that her roommate was looking out of the window anxiously.

"I'm only a phonecall away," he said. "Please call me if you need to, and if not I'll see you on Friday."

Belle nodded, and thanked him in a tearful voice before running into the house and breaking down properly in Ruby's arms. In broken, halting sentences she told her friend exactly what had happened at the funeral, and Ruby made the right noises and held her until her tears stopped.

"I'm s-so s-sick of crying!" sobbed Belle, wiping angry hands against her eyes as Ruby passed her the box of tissues again.

"Go and wash your face," she said kindly. "You'll feel better, and we can sit around in our PJs, eat ice-cream and drink wine until we fall over."

Belle let out a hiccoughing laugh and dragged herself upstairs. Her mother may be an endless source of frustration, but she felt extremely lucky to have her friends. When she came back down, Ruby had already changed, dug the ice-cream out of the freezer and opened a bottle of wine. Belle snuggled next to her under a blanket as they put on an old movie and passed the tub between them.

"Any better?" asked Ruby, and Belle nodded.

"It'll take me a while, obviously, but at least I've managed half an hour without dissolving in a puddle of tears," she said. Ruby nodded.

"If you just want to be alone on Friday night, we don't have to do girls' night," she said gently, but Belle shook her head.

"I really don't want to be on my own moping," she said. "I'd rather you guys distracted me with something."

Ruby grinned. "Oh, we'll distract you all right! Jello shots it is!"

Belle chuckled. "So you think a terrible hangover is the way to mend a broken heart?"

"Doesn't hurt, believe me." Ruby stuck her spoon into the ice cream again. "Speaking of which, I have a date on Saturday."

"With Archie?" asked Belle excitedly, and Ruby pulled a face.

"No chance! Like I said, until I graduate he's keeping me at arm's length." She grinned wickedly. "A girl has to get her kicks though. I'm going out with Billy."

"Billy's nice," affirmed Belle, with a smile. "I thought you guys were friends, though."

"We are," admitted Ruby. "But I know he doesn't want to settle down, he knows it's not serious and I know he'll be good to me, so it's cool. No strings." She turned to Belle with the spoon in her mouth, a mischievous look on her face. "I don't have to go if you want me here, though."

"No, it's fine," said Belle, with a small grin. "I actually have a date too."

Ruby chortled, turning to her with sparkling eyes. "Gold! You're finally going on a date with Gold, right?"

Belle nodded, blushing a little, and Ruby giggled. "Oh, I _knew_ it! Where is he taking you? Did you kiss him yet? Are you gonna try and get him naked? Lock your door if so, there's no way I want to see _that!"_

Belle chuckled. "I actually thought I'd invite him here and cook for him. I'm not sure I'm up to a night out just yet. And no, we haven't kissed. As for the rest of it, I haven't really planned that far ahead."

"Well, don't worry about me," announced Ruby. "If my date doesn't go like I want, I'll just stay with Snow and leave you to it."

* * *

After downing half a tub of ice-cream and half a bottle of wine on a mostly empty stomach, and consequently feeling rather sick, Belle stayed in bed for most of Thursday, catching up on lost sleep and crying herself out as she mourned her father. She had calmed down by the evening, and decided that the following day, she would attempt to get her life back into some sort of pattern. On Friday, Belle went for a run in the morning, which made her feel a lot better, then decided to go to the university to see if she could get hold of Doc. The holidays were not yet over, but she had a feeling he would be there, and was proved right when she knocked on the door of his office and heard his quiet voice asking her to enter.

"Well, my dear," he said pleasantly, blinking up at her. "I trust you enjoyed your holidays?"

"Yes," lied Belle, as she really didn't want to talk about it. He waved her to a seat.

"I found some things you might be interested in," he said in a muddled voice, turning to root through a pile of books and papers. He fished out a book and a sheaf of thick paper, and handed them to her. "I've marked some of the pages I thought you'd find useful, but please do read the whole thing."

"I will," she said, fascinated, as she opened up the book to one of the markings. It was filled with photographs of old documents, what looked to be pages from ancient texts. She sucked in her breath as she read one of them, and looked up at him. "What does this mean?"

"I'm sure you can translate it," he said, with a kind smile, and she nodded.

"Yes, but…"

"The general consensus is that it was written by a poorly-read servant, or perhaps a novice monk," he began, swinging back in his chair and tapping his fingertips together, the light from the lamp glinting off the heavy ring he wore. "The monks often took in village boys, you know, to train. Most of them had no letters before they went to the monastery."

Belle bit her lip. "Well, that could certainly explain it," she agreed. He sniffed.

"Now look at this one," he suggested, flicking through loose pages before handing her a piece of paper. She looked it over. "That's a fragment of a local story, about something dark that came from the monastery. Perhaps it was the plague. Perhaps it was something else entirely. The children in the villages used to draw this pattern in the dirt in the belief that it would protect them. Over the years it simply became a game and they didn't realise why they were doing it."

"Fascinating," murmured Belle, looking at a picture of scratches in the dirt. "I guess this is how some folk tales arise. I'd love to read more."

"Well, by all means take those with you, my dear," he said expansively. "Perhaps you could ask your employer to look out for some more." He gave her a knowing smile, and Belle swallowed.

"My employer?" she asked, her voice unnaturally high.

"Yes. Your Mr Gold. I hear he has an interest in this area."

"How…" Belle swallowed again. "How do you know that?"

His eyebrows shot up into his messy fringe. "Because he's bought things from me before, that's why! He'd no doubt want to buy this, and you can tell him he can have it when you're done with it. For a price, obviously. He knows where to find me."

"Thank you," said Belle absently, clutching the book and papers to her chest. She bid him good day and made her way at a brisk pace from the oppressive corridor and back down the stairs into the light. She was interested to see what Gold would make of her new acquisitions. She was growing increasingly nervous about their date the next night, and realised that she was not entirely sure what to expect. Would he kiss her? Would he expect to spend the night with her? She knew he wouldn't press her to do anything she didn't want to, but that was just it; she didn't know what she wanted. One thing she was sure of, however, was that she wanted one piece of information from him before she let him touch her. Her mind whirled as she went on the long walk from the university buildings to the town centre. She reached Gold's shop almost without realising it, and paused on the doorstep, taking a deep breath. Pushing open the door, she saw him look up from the counter at the tinkle of the bell.

"Hello, Belle," he said warmly, as she entered the shop. Belle hesitated, and marched up to the counter. The cold air had made her cheeks flush, and she looked beautiful, her blue eyes sparkling with intensity, and he wanted to kiss her desperately.

"You have to tell me your name," she blurted, and his brows contracted.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," she said shortly. "You know mine, and we're supposed to be going on a date tomorrow night. I'm not about to take things any further without knowing your name. Is it so embarrassing that you can't tell me?"

He hesitated, then reached into his inside pocket and fished out his driving licence, handing it to her. Belle looked down at it and read the name printed on it.

"Marcus Alexander Gold," she said aloud, and looked up at him with a smile. "That's a nice name."

"Feel free to use it or not, as you please," he said, with a grin. "I really don't care what you call me." _But I want to make you scream for me, nonetheless._ His eyes glinted at her, suddenly wicked, and she took a small step backwards, wide-eyed, biting her lip, suddenly unsure of herself. She really was delicious. He rested his hands on the counter, fingers drumming rhythmically.

"Is there something you have to show me?" he asked gently, and she swallowed hard before nodding. He gestured towards the back room and she scurried in, putting her bag down on his workbench and pulling out the documents and the book that Doc had given her. She slid onto one of the stools and, after a moment, he joined her, his leg brushing against hers.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew Doc?" she asked, and he hesitated a moment.

"I have a great many business acquaintances," was all he said. She frowned.

"No doubt, but not ones that I know," she pointed out. "How long have you known him?"

"I've been purchasing items from him for several years now," he said, and she frowned again, hearing evasion in his voice. He picked up the book.

"What's this?" he asked, and she was immediately distracted by the new reading material, as he had known she would be.

"Oh! This is a new book he's given me. Look! It ties in with what you've been having me research. And this." She picked up one of the papers that he had passed to her. "I think this is evidence of a folk tale arising in the same area. The children play a game that involves drawing this pattern on the ground as protection." She pointed to a pattern of scratched lines, an oval balanced on its point with a wavy line running down it and another across it. "They start off as far from the mark as they can get, and the game is to get to it before they can be caught. Once they reach it, they're safe."

"How is that connected with a folk tale?" he asked, and Belle grinned.

"Because the people in the villages around Avonleigh used to scratch this symbol onto their doorframes and windows to ward off evil," she explained, showing him pictures of ancient timbers in some fourteenth-century buildings in the area. Gold's eyebrows rose.

"Interesting," he admitted. "Do they say what the evil was?"

"No, and perhaps it means the Black Death, or some other disease," she said. "There was an outbreak of smallpox a few years before these timbers were marked. The villagers would have had a lot to put up with from diseases and lawlessness. Then, once the plague came, everything seems to stop. I expect that the villages were pretty much wiped out."

"Many were," he nodded. "What else did you find?"

"Well, look at this," said Belle, turning to the photographs she had looked at with Doc. "Someone took pictures of the pages of a book the monks kept. It was found in the monastery along with the other documents that you hold. In it, the monks wrote prayers and details of the daily life of the monastery." She turned to the picture that had surprised her, which showed the page of a book. The pages prior to this one had been written in clear, illustrated Latin, pages filled with prayers and psalms, records of sales of wool and ale to the villagers, of purchases of ink and vellum. This photograph was at the back of the book, the final page to be written in, and was in an untidy scrawl. Gold frowned at it, leaning closer to her so that he could see it, his arm pressing against hers.

"That doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of it," he noted, and Belle nodded.

"Yes, that's just it. The writing is poor, and scholars have assumed it was written by a novice or a servant, who had only recently learned to read and write," she said, eyes gleaming with interest. "It's been interpreted as the first indication that the Black Death had come to the monastery, and that the novice had made a mistake in his writing."

"So, what does it actually say?" asked Gold, fascinated. Belle flicked her eyes at him.

"'Merciful Lord, protect us, and forgive us our sins, for the Dark One is amongst us and death comes on silent wings'," she read. Even now, the statement made her shiver. Gold sat back slowly, the silver in his hair gleaming in the light of the lamps.

"I expect they're right," he said. "The hand is poor; a young novice monk could make that mistake if his brothers were dying around him. He could even have been ill himself."

Belle nodded. "I agree. It's interesting though, isn't it?"

"Oh yes," said Gold quietly. "Interesting indeed."

* * *

Belle worked for several hours, until the sun began to set and she heard Gold moving around, making tea for them. She sat up with a sigh, stretching, and accepted a cup gratefully.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, and she shrugged.

"It was nice to think about something else for a while," she admitted. "I think I'm really making progress here. We'll have lots to talk about on Monday."

He looked pleased. "Does that mean you'll be ready to start work again?"

She nodded, sipping her tea. "If I run from the room in tears occasionally, you'll have to forgive me," she said. "But yes, I think it's better for me to keep busy. I'm back at uni next week, so that should make the days go easier."

"It's the nights," he nodded, turning his cup gently around in his hands. "I quite understand."

She looked up at him then, and nodded slowly. "I know you do."

He sipped at his tea, watching her. "I know it's not much consolation, but it does get easier, eventually."

"It has to," she said despondently, and there was silence for a moment. Belle sighed, and drained her cup, bending to put her papers back in her bag.

"May I walk you home?" he asked suddenly, and she straightened, looking at him. His eyes were dark, lamplight gleaming gold in the pupils, and she felt a familiar sensation low in her belly.

"Thank you, I'd like that," she said, a little nervously.

They left the shop together, Gold in his overcoat and Belle carrying her bag of books, her arm linked through his. The night was very cold; snow was beginning to fall again, and Belle could feel her toes growing a little numb as she walked. She wished that she'd thought to put something more practical on her feet. Gold was wearing his shiny leather shoes, but didn't seem to mind the cold. Belle sneaked looks at him as they walked along, clad in his overcoat and dark suit. She thought that he was a man of winter, of long nights and cold winds and log fires. She tried to imagine what he wore on hot days in the summer months, and came to the conclusion that it was probably a thinner version of what he was wearing now. Trying to imagine him in shorts and a sleeveless shirt was impossible, and made her want to giggle.

"I don't know if the others will be there yet," said Belle eventually. "Ruby was going to the liquor store and picking up Snow and Emma on her way back."

"I expect we'll find out soon enough," was all he said.

They said little to one another after that, but the silence was comfortable. Belle couldn't relax fully, however, due to her rising nervousness. She knew what she planned to do, she was just not certain how he would react or how far she wanted to go. Soon enough, they reached her house, and she took a deep breath, her stomach churning with nerves as she turned to him.

"Would you like to come in for a drink?" she blurted, and he tipped his head to the side, eyeing her curiously.

"I should like that very much," he said softly. His eyes were watching her intensely, and she could feel herself blushing already. She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted, but she had made the decision to invite him in, which was a step beyond what they had been doing previously. She opened the gate before she could lose her nerve, and heard him following her up the path. The house was dark and empty; Ruby was clearly not yet back with the girls. Belle wasn't sure whether being alone with him in the house made her more or less nervous. She turned on some lights and invited him through to the lounge, then went to the kitchen to fetch the brandy and glasses. She warmed them with water as she had seen him do before pouring in a generous measure, and carried them through. He was looking at her collection of books and absently scratching Malvolio's ears.

"Here," said Belle, thrusting a glass at him nervously. She hid behind her own, eyeing him over its rim as she breathed in brandy fumes and sipped the fiery liquor. It slipped down her throat smoothly, the complex flavours reminding her of the night she had stormed into his house and yelled at him. He was watching her with a tiny smile, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

"It certainly tastes much better when I'm not being shouted at," he said mildly. Belle blushed a little.

"I said I was sorry," she muttered, taking another drink.

"You did," he said contritely. "I should not have brought it up again."

They drank in silence for a few minutes. Belle turned away, moving to stand by the fire, but could feel his eyes on her, running over her and making her shiver.

"Are you still agreeable to our date tomorrow night?" he asked then, and she turned back around.

"Yes, of course," she said, then hesitated, raising her eyes to his. "But I want you to come here."

"Here?" His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Belle nodded.

"I'll cook," she said. "You can bring some wine if you want. Ruby has a date, so we'll be on our own."

"I see." He swallowed the last of his brandy. "May I ask why you won't come to a restaurant with me? It is traditional."

Belle sighed. "Because I'm still an emotional wreck and I have no intention of breaking down in public if a piece of music comes on that reminds me of my father," she said, which was partly true, but not the whole reason. She also wanted to be on familiar territory. He smiled.

"You're not sure what you feel about me, are you?" he asked knowingly. She fidgeted, drinking her brandy to give her mouth and hands something to do.

"Are _you _sure?" she asked nervously, and his smile widened, as he put his glass down.

"I've never been more sure of anything, dearie," he said quietly, and she frowned.

"Don't call me that, you call everyone that," she pointed out. "And you're either being menacing or condescending when you do it, so don't."

He chuckled, moving closer, and took her glass from her, fixing her with his gaze. She couldn't move away; his eyes were mesmerising. She felt her heart thump in her chest.

"What should I call you then?" he asked softly. He leant his cane against the fireplace so that he could use both hands, reaching up to touch her shoulders. His fingers tightened, drawing her a little closer. "Sweetheart?" Her breath quickened, and she gripped his forearms. He smiled. "Darling?" He kissed her forehead softly. "Beloved?" His hands slid from her shoulders and down her back, pulling her to within inches of him. Belle bit her lip nervously, making him smile his dark smile again.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you," he whispered, his breath against her ear, making her shiver. "An eternity, Belle." He pressed his lips gently against her neck, causing goosebumps to run over her skin, causing her to gasp and shudder, her fingers digging into his forearms.

"Don't," she whispered, and he drew back, eyes black and gleaming with inner fire.

"Why not?" he asked, drawing his forefinger across her cheek gently.

_Because I'm scared I'm falling hopelessly in love with you. _She opened her mouth, but couldn't think of a reply other than that, and settled for shaking her head wordlessly.

"I told you I wouldn't touch you unless you wanted me to," he said softly. "And you _do_ want me to. I can _feel_ it." He brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear, moving a little closer, so that they were almost touching. She could feel the heat from him, could smell his scent, faint muskiness, cedar and spices, a hint of woodsmoke, and she felt a little dizzy. His finger curled under her chin, tilting it upwards so that he was looking into her eyes.

"I want to kiss you, Belle," he breathed, and she felt a tugging sensation in her belly, as though a spring was coiling and tightening within her. "Let me kiss you, my beauty," he whispered, his voice a soft, low purr. She swallowed hard, a throbbing in her loins. They had been stepping around one another for months, fencing and feinting, running and hiding, and she realised that she didn't want to run from him anymore. She gave the tiniest nod, barely perceptible. A slow, warm smile spread across his face, and he shifted his position slightly, lifting his hands to cup her face gently, drawing her against him. She could feel her heart thumping hard, the blood pounding in her head, and gasped as he lowered his mouth to hers, his lips soft and yielding. He tasted like brandy and caramel and cinnamon, delicious and indulgent. She felt his tongue part her lips and moaned softly, letting her hands slip through his hair as he deepened the kiss, allowing her own tongue to explore his mouth. His hands cradled her head gently, the light stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching her face pleasantly. She felt as though she was burning and drowning at the same time, her head swimming, her body liquid against his. She could feel the slim hardness of his body against her, the slender strength of his arms and chest, the proof of his desire for her hard against her belly. Her arms slid around him, pulling him closer, and he let out a gasp as she pressed herself against him before capturing her mouth once more. She was sinking into him, melding against him. It was _perfect._ But she could also feel that he was ending the intimacy, his touch becoming lighter, his kisses soft but no longer deep, his lips brushing gently against hers. She didn't want it to end, but the alternative – the alternative was more attractive than she would have thought possible, and she needed time to think before she stumbled into bed with him.

Gold pulled back as their lips parted; Belle was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, her lips swollen from his kisses. He inhaled deeply as though taking in the scent of her, brushing a curl of dark hair from her face.

"Well, well," he said, his voice a quiet whisper that seemed to vibrate in the air around her and make her shiver. "That was…"

"Unexpected," she nodded, and he smiled, his lips grazing her cheek.

"For you perhaps." She heard amusement in his voice, and he leaned in so that his hair brushed her face. "I was going to say perfect," he whispered, his cool breath on her ear, and the tugging in her belly deepened to an ache.

"What – um, what now?" she asked nervously, and he drew back and smiled.

"Why don't we wait and see what tomorrow brings?" he asked lazily, and he reached up once more to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing lightly against her face as he did so.

"Belle, the girls are – oh!" Ruby faltered in the doorway, rocking back on her heels as she took in the scene by the fireplace. She stood her ground, folding her arms beneath her breasts and smirking as she looked them up and down.

"Snow and Emma are here," she said unnecessarily. "But if you're busy…"

Belle shot Gold a look. "Girls' night," she reminded him.

"Snow brought the wine, Emma's making margaritas and I made jello shots," put in Ruby. Gold rolled his eyes.

"Four young women with questionable alcohol choices. My cue to beat a hasty retreat, I believe," he said dryly, and turned to Belle. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded in what she hoped was an indifferent manner, but spoiled it by blushing and biting her lip. His eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her again, but then she remembered Ruby's presence.

"I'll show you out," she said hurriedly, and he nodded, crossing to the chair and picking up his coat. He ducked his head to Ruby as he passed her.

"Miss Lucas."

"Mr Gold." Ruby actually bobbed an elaborate curtsey, still smirking. Belle was going to have words with her.

They managed to say goodnight without an audience, and with only a chaste kiss on the mouth. Belle shut the front door behind him, still tasting him on her lips, and, taking a deep breath, went to the kitchen. Snow and Emma were sitting at the table looking at the takeaway pizza menu while Ruby opened a bottle of wine. All three looked up with matching grins as she entered.

"Sorry for the intrusion Belle," said Ruby, sincerely. "I didn't know he'd be here."

"Nor did I," said Belle, honestly. "It was a spur of the moment thing."

"What's going on with you two, anyway?" asked Emma, and Belle pulled a face.

"Nothing," she lied. Ruby snorted, flicking her dark hair.

"Please! The last time I had that sort of nothing, I had to replace Emma's emergency condom stash the day after!" The others chuckled. Belle took a deep breath.

"We kissed," she admitted, and felt like covering her ears over the chorus of squeals as Ruby grabbed the open wine bottle and four glasses.

"How was it?" demanded Snow.

"Did he cop a feel?" demanded Emma.

"Did he throw you to the floor and take you passionately, thereby ruining you for all other men?" demanded Ruby. Belle giggled.

"Bloody amazing to the first, no to the second, and what have you been _reading_ Ruby?"

"Details," commanded Snow, and the other two thumped the table rhythmically. Belle described the kiss and watched their mouths drop open.

"Oh my God, I have to get me one of those," declared Ruby.

"So – are you seeing each other now?" asked Emma. Belle shrugged.

"I don't know. I'm seeing him tomorrow but we haven't really had a chance to talk about anything. Plus Gary keeps calling. Life is somewhat – complicated – at the moment." She looked at her friends. "I'd appreciate it if no-one said anything to Gary. I don't want to talk to him and I really can't deal with him right now. I don't want to make things worse."

Ruby pulled a face. "Come on Belle, I _hate_ Gary! I'm hardly likely to let slip to him that you want to fuck Gold's brains out, am I?"

"_Ruby!"_ spluttered Belle, and her friend batted her eyes innocently.

"What? Are you telling me you _don't_ want to fuck his brains out?"

"You're so crude!" complained Belle, and Ruby grinned mischievously.

"I prefer to call it 'direct'" she said, hooking her fingers into air-quotes. Emma and Snow were chuckling quietly at Belle's expense.

"Yeah, well, I'd be grateful if you didn't show such an unhealthy interest in my sex life," sniffed Belle. "Not that we've done anything," she added, as Ruby opened her mouth with an excited look. "You're still going out tomorrow night, right?"

"Yes…" said Ruby slowly. "Does that mean…are you gonna invite him over and jump him on the kitchen table?"

"Ew!" complained Emma. "Belle, please keep it in the bedroom. We eat here. I don't need to be wondering if the stain by my plate is Gold's love-juice."

Ruby swatted Emma's arm with a revolted look, and Belle blushed furiously. "I don't know what you think I'll be getting up to," she muttered. "But I can pretty much guarantee that it won't be on the kitchen table." She grinned suddenly. "Not tomorrow, anyway."

Snow squeezed her hand, and gave her a concerned look. "You're not just doing this because you're upset, are you?"

Belle hesitated. "No," she said firmly, because it was true. "I'm doing it because I want to. Because he excites me like no-one else, and because I think I could fall in love with him."

Emma and Ruby shot each other a look that suggested that there was no accounting for taste, but Snow smiled.

"As long as you're sure," she said. "We're behind you all the way." She gave Belle a conspiratorial smile. "He is kind of – charismatic."

Emma groaned. "Not you too! We need to get you fixed up with a guy pronto."

Snow blushed and looked at her fingers, and Belle noticed Ruby eyeing her curiously. There was something going on that she didn't know, but she was sure that Snow would tell them when she wanted to. In the meantime, she had a dinner to plan, and her nerves to settle.

* * *

**A/N: hope that made you all feel a little better after the angst of the last chapter.**

**Coming up: Belle and Gold's date. Hmm…what do you think? Should I? Should I?**


	14. First Date

**A/N: Just in case you didn't know, I don't own Once Upon a Time. It's sad, it really is…**

**Loved the reaction from you guys to the last update, you naughty things! A few one-track minds out there, methinks (you know who you are). I'm hoping you enjoy this chapter.**

**Welcome to all those new readers who followed and favourited, and to those of you that haven't commented yet, don't be shy! This is very much a work in progress, I'm making it up as I go along (which is probably obvious).**

**Guest: yes, there will be more on Maurice's murder, once I've got a few – erm – physical things out of the way so they can concentrate on what's going on.**

**Ellie: thanks so much for your lovely comments. More on the reasons behind Belle's work for Gold to come – I'm not giving anything away just yet!**

**RoxyMoron, Wondermorena, jewel415, Helena Menezes, cheesyteal'c, All Hallow's Eve31, michellelramsey1, RipperBlackstaff, anna4bates, spacecats, JustBFree, morgananne16, deweymay, ecinspired, Twyla Mercedes, Lattelady, emmaleewhittaker: you are awesome! Thanks so much for your continued support and insightful comments xx**

* * *

Belle woke with a pounding head the next day; the girls had kept their promise to make her forget her worries, and the last thing she remembered was singing at the top of her voice with Ruby as Emma and Snow danced around them, margaritas in hand. She groaned as she peeled her tongue from the roof of her mouth, wincing as she sat up. Looking at the clock, she could see that it was approaching nine, and she reluctantly pulled herself out of bed and dragged on her robe. The house was silent, her three friends clearly not up yet, and she stomped downstairs to make some coffee, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She could see her phone on the kitchen table, and briefly picked it up, remembering that she had turned it off on Wednesday after yet another text from Gary had come through as she was preparing to attend her father's funeral. She knew that she would have to deal with him and clear the air eventually, but she really didn't feel like it at that moment, particularly given her hangover. She put on some coffee and popped bread into the toaster, as that was about as much as she could stand to eat, and drank a tall glass of water as she waited for her breakfast. The smell of the fresh coffee was enough to pull her friends from their beds, and she was soon joined by three very sleepy young women in various states of distress. Emma was perhaps the least hungover; she had stopped drinking when the jello shots came out, as she had to work that evening. Ruby also had to work, but she had failed to ignore the lure of the jello shots, and simply sat with her head in her hands. She assured them all that she would be recovered by the time she had to go out for her date, but Belle privately thought that it would take more than a cup of coffee for her to feel human again. Snow sat with her hands around her cup, waiting for the coffee to be poured, her eyes somewhat unfocused. Eventually, everyone had caffeine and Belle had handed around buttered toast.

"A good night," said Snow sleepily. "What the hell were we dancing to?"

"I know that at one point it was Barry Manilow," said Ruby dully. "I totally blame the margaritas."

Belle giggled. "Yeah, but did you notice how we all knew the words?"

Emma slurped her coffee. "I need to shower and change before I can go to work," she said tiredly, then fixed both Belle and Ruby with a beady eye. "Now, you two. We expect you to freshen up, look fabulous, and tell us all the gossip tomorrow, d'you understand?"

Ruby smirked. "I can guarantee there'll be a tale to tell."

"I can't," said Belle, with a sigh. "At least, not one you want to hear. Whether we do anything more than kiss is still up in the air."

"You just have to decide what you want," Snow assured her, letting her chin rest on her folded arms. "I'm sure Gold won't push you."

"I know he won't," said Belle truthfully. "I think I'll just play things by ear." She sipped her coffee, her mind running over what she needed to do for the evening, as her friends recovered from the previous night's fun.

* * *

Gold opened his shop as usual, dressed impeccably in his suit, red tie and black shirt. He had started thinking about Belle the moment he woke up, and had considered what to wear that evening. He anticipated that she would be in blue, as she had been for their first dinner date; he therefore decided on one of his black suits, a dark blue damask silk shirt and a tie in a slightly lighter shade, and had ensured that it was pressed and ready before going to the shop. He mulled over her decision to invite him for dinner at her house, and hoped that this meant that she was willing to let him a little closer to her. The memory of the kiss they had shared had kept him awake the previous night, and he had slept little, thinking over what he wanted to do to her, given the chance. The recollection of her tongue curling around his finger at the party was enough to give him sleepless nights on its own and he could only imagine what it might feel like applied to other parts of his body. Luckily, he had a very good imagination. Her responsiveness to the kiss had encouraged him; it was clear that she welcomed his touch and he had noted that she fitted perfectly in his arms. He remembered how she had tasted, sweet and pure and full of light and innocence, and he yearned for her, yearned to have her spread out beneath him so that he could give her pleasure and take his own. He was unsure whether she was ready, but if not, he was used to playing the long game, and this was a game he intended to win.

He decided to go over his rent ledgers to fill the time, and was halfway through the first when the shop doorbell tinkled. He looked up, hoping it was Belle, and his eyebrows drew down slightly as Regina stalked into the shop, all tight black suit and red lips, hips swaying.

"Ms Mills," he said pleasantly. "I don't usually see you on Saturdays."

Regina sniffed. "Council meeting," she said dismissively. "Not something I relish, but those of us with responsibilities must do our part."

"And yet, you choose to darken my door. I'm flattered." He smirked at her, and she scowled at him.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't need something, Gold," she said coldly.

He raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"Information," she said, leaning on the counter and eyeing him as though he were something she had trodden in.

"On what or whom?" he asked softly.

"Emma Swan," she said, with disdain. It wasn't often that he was surprised, but he was this time.

"You wish to investigate a police officer?" he said, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "Might I ask why?"

"You may not," she said in clipped tones, her eyes flashing. She looked at the counter top, trailing a fingertip in swirling patterns over the glass and making his lip curl. He would have to polish the bloody thing again once she'd gone.

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you, dearie," he said easily. "Why don't you ask the poor besotted Mr Glass to do your dirty work?"

"It's not…" She let out a frustrated sigh, folding her arms beneath her breasts. "Fine! I heard rumours that she may have some – undisclosed convictions. The Council is understandably worried given her position in this town."

He gave her a slow smile. "And by 'the Council', you mean you, and by 'undisclosed convictions', you mean that you're paranoid about her developing relationship with..." He lifted his hand, spreading his fingers, a quizzical expression on his face. "I'm sorry, I'm not entirely sure what to call him." She opened her mouth angrily, and he waved her to silence. "Regina, I quite understand your frustration. Unrequited love is always painful. However, I would advise against plotting Miss Swan's demise. No good will come of it."

"Her _demise?_" sneered Regina. "I never said any such thing…"

"Figure of speech," he interrupted, twirling his hand as he grinned at her. "You and I both know that these rumours are baseless, but that raking over Miss Swan's past will damage her reputation just as much as if they were true. No smoke without fire, and all that."

She glared at him, her fingers working as though she wanted to hurl a fireball at him.

"So you won't help?" she demanded.

"An excellent assessment of the situation. Your perceptiveness, as always, overwhelms me." He smiled at her, and she smirked.

"And this wouldn't have anything to do with her friendship with the lovely Miss French, would it?" she asked, looking down her nose at him.

"This has to do with me knowing how to pick my battles," he said simply. "I have no wish to be involved in your intrigues, and I don't believe there's anything you could offer me to change my mind." He turned back to his books, as though bored by her presence. "Might I suggest a little honesty with your professor instead? You may find him more amenable to your charms."

Regina barked a laugh. "Honesty? You're _seriously _going to try and pull that one on me? Are you telling me that you've been completely _honest_ with Miss French, Gold?" She leant on the counter once more, her eyes mocking, as she watched his jaw tighten.

"I don't know what you mean," he said quietly, and she let out a short, cold laugh.

"I think you do," she said disdainfully. "She has no idea who you really are, does she?" She straightened up and crooked an eyebrow. "Did you manage to screw her yet, or is there a last shred of decency holding you back?"

Gold put his pen down very deliberately, anger flashing in his eyes. "Get out."

"Oh, so you haven't?" She tapped her finger against pursed lips, her voice mocking. "Can't say I'm surprised, I'm told she's intelligent…"

"_Now_, dearie, if you please," he almost spat.

She smirked, delighted to have riled him. "Don't worry, I'm going." She sashayed towards the door, looking back at him over her shoulder. "If you change your mind, you know where I'll be."

The bell rang again as she left. Shaking with rage, Gold stormed into the back room of the shop and sat by the spinning wheel. Regina had always known how to needle him, and he was annoyed that he had let her do it so effectively. He put his hand on the wheel, and slowly began turning it, the rhythmic creaking allowing his thoughts to drift.

* * *

Early in the afternoon, Belle dressed and hurried into town to purchase what she needed for her dinner. She had decided on something that tasted delicious but was easy to prepare (complex recipes having too much that could go wrong), and had gone for fresh oysters, slow-cooked chicken legs with white wine, cream and tarragon sauce, followed by panna cotta. She managed to find the ingredients she needed, and decided to stop at Granny's for a coffee before heading home. Ruby was stalking around the place, still nursing her hangover, and she greeted Belle tiredly as she served up the coffee.

"Graham was in earlier," she said, and grinned suddenly. "D'you know, I think he has the hots for Emma? He kept asking me questions about her."

Belle whistled. "Yeah, I noticed they were getting on well at the party. Regina won't like it."

Ruby sniffed. "Good, serve her right after she screwed you over."

Belle sipped her coffee, watching a droplet of the dark liquid spread in a thin brown line around the bottom of the cup. "D'you think Emma likes him?"

Ruby shrugged, leaning on the bar. "I dunno, you know how cagey she can be. We should ask her." She brightened suddenly. "I know, we'll refuse to tell her anything about our dates until she spills."

Belle giggled. "Deal."

Once at home, Belle prepared the panna cotta and put it in the fridge to set, then tried to have a brief nap to catch up on some of the sleep she had missed, but she couldn't relax. Her stomach was positively churning, and she was worried that she wouldn't be able to eat a bite of the meal she planned to prepare. She lay on her back for a long time, her hands behind her head, and conjured up Gold's face, the feel of his mouth on hers, the scent and taste of him. She breathed deeply, imagining his hands on her body, pulling her dress from her, sliding over her bare skin and making her writhe. She shuddered delicately; with their kiss he had made her feel something she had not experienced before, and she was humming with anticipation as to what their date might bring. Sighing, and giving up on her nap, she pushed herself up, and went to start preparing the food for their dinner. After browning the chicken, adding the stock, herbs and vegetables and turning down the heat to let it simmer gently, she went to run herself a bath in an attempt to relax, sliding into the rose-scented water with a sigh. By the time Ruby had come home, had showered, changed, and gone to meet Billy, she was feeling a little better, and prepared herself with extra care. She had decided to wear her blue dress with its flared skirt and lace inserts, just as she had worn on their first outing. She slipped on the dress over her best deep blue lace underwear and silver heels, piling her hair up on her head and brushing smoky make-up over her eyes, making them look even wider than they were. She sat for a moment, gazing at her reflection in the mirror, and wondering what the evening would bring.

* * *

Having finally calmed down after Regina's unfortunate visit, Gold tried to call Belle before he went home. He had wondered what sort of wine she wanted, but couldn't get through to her; the phone appeared to be switched off. He decided to take a bottle each of red and white from his cellar, just in case. Having showered and shaved, he dressed carefully and called Dover to pick him up. The car pulled up outside Belle's house and he took a deep breath, picking up the wine and the bouquet of flowers he had bought for her and stepping resolutely out of the car. He asked Dover to wait at home for his call, and the tall man gave him a respectful nod before pulling away. Gold headed up the path, cane tapping and reminding him of his physical limitations at every step, making him scowl. Trying to rid his mind of self-loathing, he knocked purposefully. Belle answered the door to him, looking a little flushed, and just as delicious as she had been when he first saw her. He smirked as he noted that she was wearing the blue dress from their first meeting, just as he had anticipated. He held up the bag in his hand, the bouquet of roses sticking out of the top a little awkwardly. Belle made a noise of delight over the flowers, and took them from him immediately.

"I wasn't expecting these," she beamed, and he shrugged.

"Why ever not?"

She gave him a fond look, and motioned him into the hall. He placed his bag of wine bottles on the small table that usually held sets of keys, cellphones, or anything else that the ladies of the house tended to forget to take with them.

"I couldn't get through to your phone," he explained. "I didn't know what you planned to cook, so I didn't know whether you wanted red or white wine. I brought one of each."

"Oh, yeah, we're having chicken, so, white I suppose," she said vaguely, taking the bag from him. "Sorry – I turned off my phone because Gary kept calling and I haven't turned it on in days."

Gold frowned. "Is he bothering you?"

She whirled to face him, suddenly anxious, as though he'd threatened to cut off the idiot's arms, or something. "No! No, he's just – trying to apologise, I guess. I can't face it right now."

He huffed quietly. "If he becomes a problem, you need to let me know."

"Thank you," said Belle, a little stiffly. "But I'm sure I can handle it." She turned, walking through to the kitchen, and he sighed. Sometimes he wished he could just shut up.

The kitchen was filled with tempting aromas, and there were bunches of lit candles set around the room and on the table, giving a pleasant glow. She had set two places for them opposite one another at one end of the table, and he slid into one of the seats, leaning his cane against the cupboard to his right. Belle arranged the flowers in a vase and placed them on the table, then shucked the oysters. She placed them on plates with lemon wedges, and motioned for him to pour the wine. He was pleasantly surprised at her idea for their meal; it had been a while since he had eaten oysters and he always enjoyed them. He waved away the tabasco she offered and simply squeezed lemon over them, freeing the tender flesh with his fork and tipping the shell against his mouth so that the meat slid down his throat sensuously, tasting of ozone and the salt of the ocean. He closed his eyes with pleasure, and when he looked up Belle had a similar expression on her face. He smiled slowly.

"Delicious," he said, and she opened her eyes, her irises darker than usual.

"Mm," she said, licking her lips briefly. "Eating oysters always seems a little – dirty."

His grin widened, his fingers tapping on the table, the gold ring he wore winking in the candlelight. "I think that's the idea, Belle."

She sent him a look. "I didn't get them for _that_ reason, I just like them."

He quirked an eyebrow. "We could always move straight to dessert." He gave her a wicked look, and she bit her lip and blushed.

"As I'm fairly sure you're not talking about the panna cotta, I'll serve up the main course shortly," she said primly, and he chuckled, taking a sip of his wine.

When they had finished, and she had cleared away their plates, he watched as she donned an apron and finished off the sauce for the chicken, chopping fresh tarragon and adding it to the stock from the dish, along with cream to thicken it. She served the chicken legs with creamy mashed potato and vegetables, with the sauce poured over, and he was certainly interested in the smells emanating from the plates as she carried them to the table. He pushed at his chicken leg experimentally, and smiled to himself as the flesh fell away from the bone. The first mouthful made his eyebrows rise.

"This is really excellent," he said, surprised, and she smirked.

"I told you I was a good cook when we met," she said, putting a forkful of food in her mouth, and he grinned at her. There was silence as they ate and sipped their wine, but he noticed that she was eating very little.

"How are you feeling, Belle?" he asked gently, after a while. She sighed, pushing her food around her plate as though she had lost her appetite.

"I'm okay," she said unconvincingly. "I mean, I'm better than I was. Some – minutes – are harder than others." She gave him a wobbly smile to show him that she was teasing. He waited, knowing that she wasn't finished, and she finally put her fork down with a sigh. "It's just – I know something's not right," she said. "The police said that Dad had gambling debts, and that might be why he was killed, but I've never known him to gamble."

"We don't always know everything about those we love," he said neutrally, spearing a piece of chicken. She nodded.

"I know that, and I know he'd had a lot of money problems, but he'd told me only a couple of weeks previously that he'd had a really good year." She chewed her lip anxiously. "I can't help thinking there's something else, something I'm missing."

He frowned slightly, gesturing with his fork. "You said it was a burglary. What did they take?"

Belle hesitated. "I'm not sure, I haven't spoken to the police since – well, since I _saw _him. Mind you, I turned my phone off once I got back to Storybrooke, because I couldn't..." She dropped her head, suddenly sad, and he sighed at his own stupidity.

"Perhaps that's the next step," he said, trying to coax her back to him. "Ring them and ask for an update on the case."

Belle nodded, still prodding at her chicken. He managed to engage her in conversation by asking her about what she was reading at that moment, but her enthusiasm did not last long, and he fell silent, watching her pick at her food as he cleared his own plate.

"That was delicious," he said gently, putting down his knife and fork. "Do you think you could eat any more?"

She shook her head, sitting back, and he cleared away the plates, ignoring her protests that _she_ was supposed to be serving _him_.

"Dessert can wait," he said firmly, pulling her to her feet and picking up his cane. "Let's take our wine into the lounge and relax for a while."

She followed him willingly enough, clutching the bottle, and he refilled their glasses as she added a few more logs to the fire and put on some music. He recognised Otis Reading, and suspected that whoever had made the horrendous music selection at the party, it hadn't been Belle. She sat down on the sofa next to him, turning her glass around in her hands awkwardly.

"I'm sorry that I'm not much fun," she said quietly. "I don't suppose this is quite what you wanted for our first date."

"I have a first date with _you_," he pointed out. "That's more than I ever expected." He reached up to brush a tendril of hair from her face.

"I was hoping it would take my mind off things," she admitted. "I guess…it'll take a while to get used to."

"Of course." His hand slipped to the nape of her neck and began stroking her gently, and she leaned into his touch. After several minutes, during which she began to settle beside him as the music played softly, he made a decision, standing up and taking her glass from her. He placed their glasses on the mantle and held out his hand, beckoning her to him, and she stood up with a small smile. She approached him slowly, letting him take her in his arms as he had the day after Christmas, which seemed an age ago. He put his hand on her waist and felt her relax against him with a sigh as they moved together.

"I wish I could make it better," he said softly, and felt her smile against his neck.

"You do," she said. They moved slowly in the dance, her fingers curling around his, his cheek pressed against her forehead. He kissed her gently, and she made a tiny noise of pleasure, rubbing her head against him like a cat. He took that as a sign of encouragement, and kissed his way across her cheek, his breath quickening as his mouth reached hers. She was breathing heavily, and he captured her lips with his, his hands sliding around her and pulling her close as he explored the sweetness of her. She clung to him, her tongue stroking against his, pressing herself to his chest. He could feel himself hardening against her, and pulled back slightly, pressing kisses down her throat and making her moan with pleasure before making his way back up to her mouth and devouring her once more. Belle sank into him, fluid in his arms, her hands gripping his shoulders, before she finally pulled back, panting, her eyes a little wild and tendrils of her hair starting to snake loose. He gently kissed her lips, her nose, and her eyelids, before pressing his forehead to hers and resuming the dance. She sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder once more.

"Are you planning on staying with me tonight?" she asked then, and he tightened his grip a little. He didn't want to scare her off, but he had to tell her the truth.

"Belle, you must know how I feel about you," he said gently. "I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you." She smiled up at him shyly, and he stroked her cheek with a gentle finger. "I know we kissed," he said, his voice soft, "but it doesn't mean that I'm expecting anything more from you tonight. If you want me to go, just say the word."

She looked up at him then, frowning slightly. "I've thought about this a lot," she said calmly. "I've actually been thinking about it for some time. I know you don't expect anything from me, and so I'm free to make my own decisions." She reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face, making the lamplight pick out the hints of gold and silver running through it. "I want you, too," she said seriously. "If I'm completely honest I think some part of me has wanted you from the moment we met, and if you don't kiss me this second I'll be very upset."

Barely able to believe his luck, that this beautiful woman could want him, he pressed a reverent kiss to her forehead, then lowered his mouth to her throat with a grin, revelling in her taste, in the firm curves of her body against him.

"Oh, my Belle," he breathed, kissing up her neck to her ear and making her shiver. "My beauty." She dug her hands into his shoulders with a gasp as his lips found hers, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside her sweet mouth, tasting her, drowning in her. Her fingers pushed through his hair, making him growl deep in the back of his throat, the sound causing her to moan and press herself into him. Finally he drew back, leaving her breathless and trembling.

"What…" Her breath caught, and she swallowed, her eyes dark with desire. "What do you want from me?"

He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, stroking the pad of his thumb gently over her lower lip. Her mouth opened slightly, the moist pink softness of the innermost part of her lip exposed to him, making him twitch.

"I want to take you to bed," he said softly, making her shiver with anticipation, her gaze suddenly hot and hungry. He moved closer to her and gently kissed her, his hand cradling the back of her head. He kissed around to her ear, tugging lightly at her earlobe with his teeth. "Come to bed with me, Belle," he whispered, and she pushed against him, capturing his mouth with hers. She wanted him badly, she knew that. She'd known it for a while now, although she had been afraid to admit the fact to herself. But she was nervous; she'd only ever been with Gary and she hadn't felt particularly skilled at the act. Gary was not especially adventurous and she felt (and hoped) that Gold would want more from her than a quick hump. Swallowing her fears, she pulled back from him and held out her hand. Smiling softly, he slipped his hand into hers, linking their fingers, grasped his cane, and allowed her to lead him from the room.

* * *

**A/N: I'm prepared for scourges and flaying from the lot of you. You're all good with deferred gratification, right? Sorry, but the chapter would have been ridiculously long if I'd left it as one. Also, I'm mean…**

**Coming up: well…**


	15. From What I've Tasted Of Desire

**A/N: This is basically a chapter of smut, so if that's not your thing, I suggest you skip to the end (there is some other stuff there too) or wait for the next update. Long story short, they do it.**

**_Loved_**** the feedback from you guys – I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.**

**Claire: yes, it's totally deliberate, but I didn't make you wait too long! Thanks for the lovely words.**

**Erik'sTrueAngel: there will be more on Maurice's murder and Gold's past to come…just not yet**

**RipperBlackstaff, Erik'sTrueAngel, anna4bates, RoxyMoron, morgananne16, Wondermorena, Lattelady, All Hallow's Eve31, deweymay, spacecats, ecinspired, michellelramsey1, JustBFree, cheesyteal'c, emmaleewhittaker, booktraveler, Twyla Mercedes, jewel415, paulawer: thank you all for your continued support and encouragement.**

* * *

Once upstairs, Gold excused himself and went to the bathroom, his head spinning with what had occurred and what he anticipated. He paused for a moment as he washed his hands, gazing into the bathroom mirror as he did so. His reflection stared back, brown hair streaked with grey, his long fringe hanging around his face as he bent over the sink. He leant on the basin with a sigh, dark brown eyes assessing himself critically. The previous late nights had not helped matters; his eyes had dark shadows beneath them and he looked drawn and tired. He was a little nervous; she was so young and it had been a very, very long time. He ran agitated hands through his hair, puffing air through his teeth. _Idiot, it's not as though you've forgotten how_. He could tell from their kisses that they were compatible, so all he had to do was please her. His reflection seemed to have a sardonic expression that doubted his prowess, and he glared at himself. He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and filled himself with his usual arrogance, with his self-assuredness, reminding himself that he was the deal-maker, the most powerful man in Storybrooke, the one who always came out on top, and that he was good at everything he tried to do. So he would do his best, for her, for Belle. He took a last look at himself, and smiled. Dark eyes stared back, smouldering, all-knowing, alight with intelligence and arrogance. He was ready.

Upon entering her bedroom, his eyes scanning everything and memorising it, in case it was the last time he was there, Gold noticed that Belle had taken off her shoes and was standing by the mirror, fidgeting, her fingers winding around one another. She jumped as he approached, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, making her shiver as his fingers brushed her skin. She could feel the heat from him, his warm scent filling her lungs and making her want to fall against him. He cupped her chin, lifting her head to face him, his brown eyes penetrating, making her drop her gaze.

"Are you sure, Belle?" he asked quietly. "I won't push."

"I know," she whispered. "I'm sure." She bit her lip, lifting anxious eyes to him.

"You're nervous," he said, concerned, and she nodded. He ran his thumb gently over her lip. "I won't hurt you."

"It's not that," she assured him, quickly. "It's just – this is all so new, and I – I feel as though I don't really know what I'm doing, and I don't want you to be disappointed, and…"

"Belle," he said gently, cutting across her, and she looked up at him, confused. He put his mouth next to her ear. "Stop thinking," he whispered, and kissed her neck.

Belle gasped, shivers running over her body at the feel of his mouth on her skin. His hands grasped her hips gently, pulling her against him, and she let her head roll back as he kissed up her throat to cover her mouth with his. He pulled back slightly, and she tried to catch her breath as he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. He watched her intently, her chest heaving and her lips full and red from the pressure of his, and kissed her again as his fingers reached up and began gently pulling the pins from her hair, allowing her dark curls to cascade down over her shoulders. As he drew back, she was breathing heavily, her eyes dark as they ran over him, making him smile. He watched her as he removed his cufflinks, placing them on the dresser and slowly undoing his tie, draping it over the jacket. Belle reached forward hesitantly and unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt. He smiled slightly at her nervousness and gently turned her around to face the mirror, her back pressed against his chest. She leant on the dresser, staring at their reflections, gazing at his dark eyes as he watched her in the mirror, his hands running over her body. He cupped her breasts gently, thumbs rubbing over her nipples, and the low growl in his throat made her gasp, as she felt a throbbing in her groin. He placed a kiss on her shoulder, another further along, then gently sank his teeth into the muscle where her shoulder joined her neck. Belle groaned, shuddering with pleasure, and felt him smile against her skin. She pushed back against him, leaning into his chest, wetness beginning to pool at the apex of her thighs as she ached for his touch. His fingers trailed up her arms and around to the back of her dress, feeling for the zipper and gently pulling it down. Gold looked at the skin of her bare back exposed by the open zipper. He ran a cool fingertip down the hollow of her spine and stepped a little closer to her, sliding his index fingers under the shoulder straps of her dress and gently pulling them down over her shoulders. As he moved the fabric aside, he exposed more of her pale, flawless skin. Skin the colour of cream. He wondered if it was just as delicious, and lowered his mouth to her shoulder to taste her. Belle let out a soft moan, making him want to rip the dress from her and take her hard against the wall. But he had made up his mind to be gentle with her the first time. He pushed the straps down her arms, peeling the fabric from her body and revealing more of her beautiful skin, until eventually the dress pooled on the floor at her feet and she was exposed to him. He took a moment to admire the beauty of her, her long legs and firm buttocks and her small, high breasts in the bra he itched to unfasten. Instead, he put his hands on her hips and moved close against her, pressing himself into her as he kissed her neck and shoulders. She gasped to feel the hardness of him against her, slowly rotating her hips and making him shudder.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, nipping at her skin and making her squirm and bite her lip.

"You're so overdressed," she whispered, and he chuckled. He turned her back around to face him, and she reached up to kiss him, her hands tugging open the buttons of his shirt and slipping inside as he cupped her bottom with his hands, pulling her close. The feel of her fingers against the skin of his chest was intoxicating, and he gasped as her thumbs swirled around his taut nipples. He reached up to cup her face, kissing her deeply, and she pulled at his belt, undoing it. He unhooked her bra, slipping it from her and stepping back a little so that he could look at her, her perfectly rounded breasts with their pink nipples standing out against the ivory skin. His expression was reverent, and Belle blushed at the intensity of his gaze. She put her hand shyly in his, and led him to the bed, drawing back the covers and lying down as he shrugged off his shirt and trousers. She had been right about his body; he was thin, but he was lean muscle, sinewy but strong. His chest was smooth, his forearms having a light covering of fine, silky hair that glinted in the light. A line of dark hair ran from his navel down into the waistband of his underwear, and Belle had the sudden urge to follow it with her tongue. He smiled, as though he knew what she was thinking, and climbed onto the bed, settling himself next to her and taking her in his arms, his hand cupping her breast and gently stroking his thumb against the nipple, pinching it gently between his fingers and making her gasp. She was as beautiful as he had imagined, smooth strong limbs and soft curves and creamy skin, her thighs well-muscled and slender, her breasts firm as they pressed against his chest. Her skin felt like silk and smelt of musk and roses and something that was specifically Belle. They spent a long time in exploration, in kissing and touching and the thrill of new skin, learning what the other liked, learning what was exciting. He discovered that she was ticklish at the backs of her knees, and that her neck was incredibly sensitive; kissing her there drove her wild with desire, and he had to pull back once or twice in order to prolong the intimacy. When he lowered his mouth to her nipple she cried out and arched her body into his, feeling him smile against her. He ran his hand down over her taut belly, pushing under the front of her panties, and he stiffened in surprise as he felt smooth skin. He looked up at her with a slow grin and she blushed.

"I wax," she said, by way of explanation. "Do you mind?"

In answer he hooked his fingers around the sides of her panties and removed them slowly, giving a low rumbling gasp as she was exposed to him. He desperately wanted to taste her, but he decided to leave that delight for another time. Instead, he lay back down beside her, sliding his hand down her body. Belle thought that there was something very erotic about his tanned fingers against her milky skin, sliding over her belly and down over the smooth mound of her sex. He shifted a little closer to her, and slipped his hand between her legs, gently stroking against her soft flesh. Belle gasped as she felt his fingers slide into her inner folds, and he chuckled darkly, kissing her ear.

"So wet for me," he purred, making her press herself against him. "So sweet." He gently slipped a finger inside her, and Belle moaned as the pad of his thumb stroked against her clit. "So delicious," he whispered, moving his fingers rhythmically. Belle wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him, her thighs pressing together and increasing the friction as he worked, flicking at her clit with the end of his thumb, gently pinching it between the thumb and the base of his forefinger. A second finger entered her, thrusting, curling around to press against the bundle of nerves within her, and she groaned, moving with him. She could feel the pressure building, could feel the muscles of her belly tightening as his mouth ravaged her throat and she pressed herself against him. When it came, her climax hit her hard, making her cry out, her hips bucking, her nails digging into his shoulders. She fell back against the pillows, gasping and panting as the room swam back into focus. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she lay there twitching, watching him lean on his elbow with a smug expression on his face, sucking her sweet nectar from his fingers sensuously. His eyes were dark with desire for her; she could feel him hard and straining against her thigh, and she reached for him, pulling him to her.

"My beautiful Belle," he whispered, his accent rough, his eyes a little wild as his hair brushed her face. "I need you. I have to be inside you."

She nodded urgently. "Yes!" she breathed, reaching for him, pushing her fingers through his hair as she kissed him, her nails raking his scalp and making him groan. He reached up to gently caress her, his thumb pulling down her lower lip and slipping into her mouth. She sucked it hard, wrapping her tongue around it and making him shudder with pleasure as he withdrew it.

"I need to come in you, my Belle," he whispered desperately, cupping her face, and she moaned in response, rubbing her cheek against him, her lips meeting his messily, tongues sliding against one another. There was stickiness on his fingers, now on her smooth cheeks. She could taste herself on him, could smell the scent of her own arousal on his fingers, on his lips, a faint, sweet muskiness. His kiss was deep, turning her insides to liquid fire, and his hand moved down her body and slipped between her legs once more. His questing fingers parted her soft folds, finding a well of creamy fluid, and he groaned in appreciation, sliding his fingers over her tender skin, spreading her juices and making her gasp. She grasped at his hair, pulling his head against hers as she kissed him fiercely, and he moved so that he was lying between her legs. She could feel him then, feel the hot, smooth hardness of him, feel him pushing against her. Her thoughts were jagged, repetitive, desperate: _ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease_. She gazed up at him pleadingly and he understood, giving her a brief, surprisingly nervous smile and pressing his forehead to hers. He looked into her eyes as he ran his hands up her arms, lifting her hands above her head, the two of them seeming to breathe as one, and he laced his fingers through hers as he pushed slowly into her. Belle threw her head back with a cry as she felt him enter, and he seemed to shudder before stilling himself, releasing her hands, kissing her gently, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him. He looked a question at her, ensuring she wanted to continue, and she bit her lip, strangely touched by his concern, by his tenderness. She stroked his face, kissed his mouth, willed him on. He began to move, kissing her deeply, stroking his hands down her body to grip her hips, fingers sliding underneath and tugging her closer. He revelled in how tight she was, how wet, how good it felt to be buried within her, where he belonged, where no-one else would ever be, ever again. Belle pulled her knees up, sliding her legs around him, allowing him to push deeper, to fill her completely. She couldn't believe how they fit one another perfectly, how they felt so _right_, so _good_. So familiar. He brushed her hair tenderly back from her face, his movements slow, deliberate, rocking against her with rhythmic friction as he gazed down at her, drinking her in, her full lips, flushed cheeks, beautiful eyes that could steal a man's soul. He had waited so long to touch her, to take her, and the sensation of her skin against his was incredible. She was warm silk beneath him, soft velvet surrounding him, the scent of her filling his head. She was everything he wanted, she was _Belle_, the light to his darkness. His salvation. She moved with him, crying out as he ground against her, the pleasure building in waves. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she could feel his body tensing, the pressure rising within him. He was taking it slowly, his movements gentle, but she wanted him, wanted him to feel what she had already experienced, wanted him to let go and lose control. She bent her head to his chest and sucked gently on his nipple, making him cry out and clutch at her. She could feel him growing even harder within her, nearing his release. She clung to him, encouraging him, lifting her hips to meet him as they moved as one, and the added pressure sent her over the edge. White light exploded behind her eyes, and she pumped against him, crying out wordlessly, her nails digging into his skin. The feel of her clenching around him brought him to his climax, and he let out a hoarse cry, his arms around her, cradling her head in his hand and whispering her name over and over as he poured himself into her. They held onto to one another, tingling from head to toe, slick with sweat, gulping air. Eventually she fell back against the pillows with a final gasp and felt him stroking her hair softly, kissing her lips tenderly, as the blood pounded in her head and shadows threatened to chase away the light in her vision. Gradually, her focus returned, and she listened to his heavy breathing, in time with her own. Opening her eyes, she could see him staring down at her, his eyes dark and inscrutable. He cupped her face with his hands and pressed a slow, tender kiss to her brow before resting his forehead against hers, his fingers lightly stroking her cheeks, whispering to her how beautiful she was, how incredible. She could feel his breath on her face, could smell his scent, mixed with hers. Her body was warm and loose and liquid, a pleasant throbbing in her loins. He was buried within her, their limbs entwined, as though they were one being, and she suddenly realised with absolute clarity that, despite her previous relationship, despite all the nights she had spent with Gary, this was the first time anyone had truly made love to her.

Belle was shocked, and somewhat concerned, to find that there were tears in her eyes. She blinked furiously. A single salty droplet tracked its way down her face and into the hollow of her ear, an unpleasant sensation. She tried to wipe it away without him seeing, but of course that was an impossibility.

"Belle?" His voice was hoarse, as though he hadn't spoken in weeks. She shook her head, and his smile was twisted. "Not quite the reaction I was hoping for."

She touched his face, kissed him reassuringly. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm still very emotional and that – that was the most intense thing I've ever experienced."

Shock, disbelief, pleasure, and finally smugness, all ran over his face in the space of about two seconds, and he bent to kiss her.

"The feeling is entirely mutual, sweetheart," he breathed. They kissed gently, tongues softly stroking. Belle could feel him gradually shrinking within her, and let out a satisfied sigh, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Well, you've had your way with me, Mr Gold," she murmured, making him smile. "What nefarious scheme are you planning now?"

He nuzzled her throat, gently nipping at her jaw as he worked his way around to her ear. "Well, once I've recovered," he breathed. "I should very much like to have my way with you again." He sucked at the sensitive spot below her ear, making her gasp and arch into him.

"I think that could be arranged," she said breathlessly, losing herself in the touch of his hands and his mouth on her skin. She buried her face in his hair as he kissed her, breathing him in as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed gently.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked then, and he gave a rumble of assent, making her smile. She slipped from his grasp and picked up his shirt, drawing it on and causing him to make an appreciative noise from behind her.

"I must say that looks much better on you," he remarked, sitting up against the pillows with his arms folded behind his head. She grinned at him, drinking in the sight of him, how wicked and delicious he looked with his hair all awry and his dark eyes glinting at her. She wanted to get back into bed.

"Tea," she announced, and slipped from the room, going to the bathroom to clean herself up. She looked at her reflection in the mirror as she dried her hands, wondering if there would be anything different about it. She certainly _felt_ different. Her eyes seemed a little darker, and there was a bite mark on her neck which she touched with a small grin. She was his.

After having drunk tea together, followed by the unfinished glasses of wine, they made love once more before falling asleep. The second time was slower and, to Belle's astonishment, even more intense, perhaps because they knew a little more about one another's bodies. They fell into a slumber, wrapped in one another's arms, warm and sticky and comfortable. He woke her once in the night, spooned against her, his hands ghosting over her breasts and his mouth trailing across her shoulder. He lifted her leg, draping it over his so that he could push into her from behind, his movements languid. Belle writhed sleepily against him, gasping as he reached down between her legs to pleasure her before finding his own release, his breath hot against her ear as he cried out her name. While she was still twitching from her previous high, he turned her onto her back beneath him and his long fingers slipped between her thighs, finger and thumb rolling lazy circles around her pleasure-swollen flesh to send her over the edge again before she drifted into slumber once more.

Gold lay awake for a while after she fell asleep. He looked down on her, cradled against his chest, the moonlight shining through the curtains and making her pale skin glow. She was so beautiful it made his mouth go dry, her dark curls tousled and falling around her face, her full lips parted as she breathed. She twitched slightly and mumbled in her sleep, and his mouth curled upwards in a smile as he stroked her hair gently. His head was whirling with all that had happened between them, and he desperately wanted to have her again. He could smell her scent on his fingers, making him want to roll her beneath him once more. He drew a gentle finger across her cheek and she sighed softly, nestling more closely against him, her arm slipping around his waist. He held her close, stroking the smooth skin of her back. Things were as they should be. He had her, finally, after all this time, and he was not prepared to let her go.

* * *

Belle awoke slowly, smiling as she felt the weight of an arm across her belly and a warm body snug against hers. She was cocooned in the bedclothes with him, and getting up seemed like a terrible plan, but she needed the bathroom, not to mention a shower. She slid from his grasp, causing a murmur of complaint, and slipped on her robe before making her way quietly to the bathroom. The hour was early, but she could hear Ruby moving around downstairs, which either meant that a miracle had happened and she was awake before eight on a Sunday, or she had just gotten in from her date. Belle suspected the latter, and grinned to herself. She used the bathroom as quickly as she could, wrapping a towel around her wet hair, and sneaked back to the bedroom before Ruby could accost her. Opening the door, she slipped inside, and let out a small shriek of surprise as Gold grabbed her and pushed her back against the wall, his hands searching inside her robe and sliding over her damp skin. She kissed him fiercely, running her fingers over his back, and he pulled the robe open, dragging it from her shoulders and throwing it to the ground. The towel on her head joined the pile. She dragged her mouth from his for a moment and he kissed down her neck to her left breast, his stubble scraping her skin. His hand slipped between her thighs, gently stroking her and making her moan and clutch at him as he tested her readiness. He gently slid one finger inside her, then another, the knuckle of his thumb rubbing against her clit and making her writhe.

"You know, I just got clean," she panted and felt him grin against her before raising his head to stare at her wickedly.

"Then I'll just have to do dirty things to you for the rest of the morning," he growled, and she chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hooked his hands under the backs of her thighs, lifting her up and pushing her back against the wall so he could slip into her, and Belle gasped with pleasure as he rubbed against her.

"Marcus, your leg!" she protested, and he distracted her with another kiss.

"Let me worry about that," he breathed. So she did, moaning slightly as he moved, sliding in and out of her. She lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist, and he growled his approval, gripping her more tightly. He tried to move slightly to the side, but that seemed to be too much for his leg, and he stumbled, knocking against the dresser and sending Belle's work lamp crashing to the floor.

"Shit!" he gasped, which made her giggle, and then he started to giggle, and she stuck out her arm because she knew they were going to fall, grasping ineffectually at the chair, which toppled over with a crash as they hit the floor, almost knocking the breath from his body. She straddled him, pushing him back against the carpet, and began to ride him, finding her rhythm, gradually increasing the speed of her movements. His eyes rolled back in his head as she ground against him, his fingertips digging into her hips, and Belle threw her head back, gasping with pleasure as she reached her peak. He followed her over the edge, crying out wordlessly, and they both collapsed in a tangle of limbs, breathing hard, his heart thumping by her ear. Belle recovered first, rolling off him onto her back, and he ran his hands over his face, his chest heaving.

"This can't be good for me," he said wearily, and she frowned, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"Hey, I was the jumpee, remember?"

"I'm convinced you're trying to kill me by the most enjoyable means necessary."

"Are you alright?" she asked, grinning down at him, and he groaned, putting an arm over his face.

"No, my leg is fucking killing me."

"I did warn you," she said teasingly, and he smiled slightly.

"Indeed you did. That'll teach me to spice things up."

Belle snorted, sitting up. "Wuss," she said.

"Vixen." He rolled onto his side to kiss her thigh, and they both started at a knock at the bedroom door.

"Hang on!" shouted Belle, grabbing her robe quickly. Gold had pushed himself up into a sitting position, lounging against the bed. She threw a pillow at him before answering the door to her curious-looking roommate.

"Hey," said Ruby, brow crinkling. "Are you moving furniture or something? What the hell are you doing?" She pushed the door open despite Belle trying to hold it closed, to reveal Gold sitting on the floor in all his nakedness, except for a strategically-placed pillow. He gave her a small wave, a resigned smile on his face, and Ruby's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Okay, I'll rephrase that, I should have asked _who_."

"Sorry if I woke you…" began Belle, but Ruby shook her head.

"Oh no, I just got in." Her face was suddenly serious. "Gary's at the door."

Belle lifted her eyes to the ceiling with a groan, and Ruby gave her a sympathetic look.

"Do you want me to tell him to get lost?"

It was tempting, but Belle figured that now was as good a time as any for some closure on that whole sorry mess.

"No, it's okay," she sighed. "Just tell him I'll be two minutes, would you?"

"No problem," Ruby said with a grin. "I'll just be – bleaching my eyeballs for the rest of the morning, okay?" She mouthed _Oh My God _as soon as Belle had closed the door enough so that she wouldn't be seen by the room's other occupant, and Belle knew she was in for a grilling once the two of them were alone. She shut the door and leant back against it with a sigh.

"Need some moral support?" asked Gold, grinning wickedly, and she gave him a flat look as she pulled on a pair of jeans.

"No, this is something I've been putting off, so I guess there's no time like the present," she sighed, buttoning her fly. She eyed him as she tugged a shirt over her head. "You know, you could put something on, it's very distracting."

"I'm hoping you'll come back upstairs," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Belle snorted. "And traumatise Ruby some more? Besides, I could do with some breakfast. As soon as he's gone, we'll eat." She bent to kiss him briefly before leaving the room and making her way downstairs to the scene that would no doubt erupt when she told Gary where to go. Each step reminded her of the night's escapades; her jeans were tight and she was deliciously sore. She felt a blush rising in her cheeks and tried to think about less appealing things, like Gary. Pushing open the kitchen door she saw him standing, _looming_, by the sink. Why had she ever thought anyone that tall and wide was attractive? He came towards her eagerly.

"Belle! I was getting worried. There was some noise…were you moving furniture?"

"No," she said shortly, folding her arms. "What do you want?"

If he was put off by her hostile reception, he didn't show it.

"Belle, look, I've been away for a couple of weeks, I've had a lot of time to think…I just wanted to say how sorry I am," he began. "I never meant for you to walk in on that…"

"I'm sure that's true," she interrupted. "No doubt you thought you could just carry on with me blissfully ignorant of the whole thing!"

"I didn't mean that!" he objected. "I just meant – it was a fling, a stupid fling, and I'm sorry!"

_You certainly are_, she thought acidly. Aloud she said: "is that it?"

He stepped towards her, reaching for her hands, but she kept her arms firmly folded. "I want you to give us another chance. We can both change. It could be good again."

Belle drew back from him, curling her lip. "I don't _want_ another chance, Gary!"

He looked perplexed for a moment, then his face broke into what he knew was a winning smile. Belle was faintly repulsed.

"Come on, Belle, you know you want to forgive me," he wheedled. "Think of all that time we spent together."

"I do forgive you," she said honestly. "But I don't love you, and I can never be with you."

"Perhaps you should learn to take no for an answer, dearie." Gold's voice, drawling from behind her, made Gary look over Belle's shoulder in surprise. She turned towards the doorway, where he was lounging in his suit pants and shirt, his collar undone, calmly fastening his cufflinks, a smug grin on his face. Gary met Gold's eyes, then, in what appeared to be a moment of understanding, his gaze flicked up to the ceiling and back down again before returning to Belle.

"You can't be serious," he almost whispered, and Belle flushed. "You _cannot _be _serious_!" His voice rose to a shout, and Gold smiled.

"Gary, please!" begged Belle, but the idiot started gesturing emphatically.

"I knew it!" he shouted. "I _knew _it!"

"You knew nothing!" said Belle coldly. "Last night was the first time."

"First _three_ times, if you want to be accurate," added Gold, grinning slightly. "Or is it four? Does this morning count? We _were_ up all night, it's just a haze of pleasure to me." He looked at Belle innocently, and she rolled her eyes.

"Gary, I don't know what you're doing here, but if I wasn't clear when I left your house, we're done. My private life is now my business."

Gary wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, but _this_ guy? Really, Belle? He has to be getting on for fifty!"

"Fifty-two," put in Gold, helpfully. Belle glared at him, and he raised an eyebrow. "What? It's the truth." He turned to Gary. "Of course, experience does have its advantages." He was grinning, his eyes taunting, and Gary sneered.

"Sorry, I don't speak 'dried-up old bastard'," he spat, and Gold's smile widened.

"No indeed, your first language appears to be 'petulant arsehole'," he agreed. Gary spluttered, and Belle bit her lip in an attempt to stop her giggle. Gary glared at her.

"You can't seriously tell me _Gold_ gets you hot!" he objected. Belle opened her mouth for an angry retort, but Gold simply held Gary's gaze and languidly drew the first two fingers of his right hand across his nose while inhaling deeply, eyes glinting wickedly, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he exhaled slowly. Gary's jaw clenched, his fists opening and closing. Belle blushed. Gold finished fastening his cufflinks, and buttoned up his shirt.

"I'll allow you two to continue this conversation," he said airily, and turned to walk into the lounge. Belle faced Gary, hands on hips.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded. "We're _over_, Gary! It's done! You cheated on me and I dumped you. I've moved on. How much more final can you get?"

"To _him_?" Gary blustered. "Belle, you have to be kidding me! This is just – a rebound thing! I guess you were sad, and he moved in like the snake he is and took advantage of you, and…" He cut off as Belle held up her hand.

"First of all, I wasn't sad, not over you," she began. "I was sad about my father, which I note you haven't even mentioned."

"You father? I don't…" He looked confused, but she continued.

"Secondly, I'm not on the rebound. I was upset when I walked in on the two of you, I admit it. But looking back, I realised that what was really hurt was my pride. I was close to ending it myself when I discovered your infidelity, I was just planning on ending it _before_ I started sleeping with someone else." He looked uncomfortable then, and she raised her head a little more. "I think it was for the best that we split up, and it's for the best that it stays that way." She ended with a note of finality, and he looked a little desperate.

"Belle, I know I messed up, but you can't seriously be throwing me over for that guy!"

She was annoyed now. "Gary, just go! We're done." She walked to the door and held it open, and he barged past her, knocking her against the wall. She thought about helping him through the door with her foot up his arse, but decided to rise above it.

"He'll never match up to me," he sneered over his shoulder. "Just think of that the next time he tries to bed you."

"The last thing I want to think about when I'm in bed with him is _you_, trust me," she said dryly. "He's a far better lover than you ever were."

She noticed him flinch.

"I bet he has to pop a pill to get it up," he muttered, and she saw red, stomping out of the house after him.

"For your information he's more than capable!" she snapped. "He's everything you're not, and for that I'm bloody grateful!"

He stormed off down the path, turning at the bottom to face her. "Screw you Belle!" he shouted. "Have fun fucking a cripple!"

"Oh, I'll have fun alright, you puffed-up imbecile!" she yelled. "It may interest you to know that last night he gave me SIX ORGASMS!"

He threw up his hands as though he was trying to ward off her words, moving out of sight, and Belle stood there shaking with rage. It was then that she noticed that they weren't alone in the street. Archie was walking Pongo on the opposite side of the road, his face as red as hers must be. Leroy was nearby, giving her a huge grin and a double thumbs-up, and Granny _(oh God, Granny!) _was next to him, an amused smile on her face. She tipped Belle a slow wink. Clapping her hand to her mouth with mortification, Belle ran back into the house and slammed the door as though that would make everything go away. She could hear Gold laughing from the lounge. _Bastard_. She walked despondently in and fell against his chest, resenting the way he was shaking with humour. Ruby was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, her eyes sparkling with merriment as she looked at them.

"Kill me now," Belle pleaded, and he kissed the top of her head.

"And deprive myself of the pleasure of your company? I think not."

She sighed, nestling against him, and Ruby chuckled.

"Breakfast," she announced. "I'll do it. You two go back to – well, whatever."

* * *

**Happy New Year! Thought it was best to start it the way everyone should, with Rumbelle smut!**

**Coming up: Belle wants answers following the death of her father.**


	16. A New Direction

**A/N: Thanks to all who followed and favourited.**

**I was completely blown away by the feedback from all you lovely people on the last chapter; thanks so much, it really means a lot.**

**Guest (chapter 1 comment): Welcome! I hope you enjoy the rest!**

**Guest (chapter 4 comment): I love those fics too, so that's a huge compliment, thanks so much x. As for the POV thing, I know some writers do one chapter from one POV, then another etc, but that's not my style. I like to see how the characters react to the same scene. I'm sure you can all keep up with the changes.**

**Guest (chapter 15 comment): thank you, you made my day!**

**Claire: so glad you liked it, and thanks!**

**Ellie: pleased you enjoyed. And yes, I thought it was the sort of creepy in-your-face-ha! thing he'd do.**

**RoxyMoron, spacecats, morgananne16, JustBFree, Wondermorena, michellelramsey1, cheesyteal'c, Ifitch86, All Hallows' Eve31, Sabelina, orthankg1, 9aza, booktraveler, AngelOfMusic44, Lattelady, blkroses, Erik'sTrueAngel, Twyla Mercedes, Hikari No Chibi (thanks for the recommendation), deweymay, The Auburn Girl, paulawer, Helena Menezes, ecinspired, Blairbear914, emmaleewhittaker: you rock my world! Here's the next update.**

* * *

Once Gold had dressed properly and sent Dover a message to collect him, breakfast was eaten at the kitchen table, with Ruby shooting amused glances between the two of them as she sipped her coffee. Ignoring her, Belle finished her meal and picked up her cellphone with a sigh.

"I'm guessing several messages from Gary and a dozen from my mother asking why I haven't called," she said grimly, and turned it on. She was correct in one sense; there were indeed several messages from Gary (though, unsurprisingly, none since he had left that morning) and three from her mother. Belle made a mental note to call her later. She skipped to the next message, and frowned at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. She motioned to Ruby, who immediately passed her a pad and pencil and watched as Belle began scribbling.

"What was that?" asked Gold curiously, sipping his tea as she put her phone down on the table. Belle bit her lip, looking anxious.

"The first was a Detective Alvarez from the Boston PD, who wants to talk to me about Dad," she said. "The second was a Gabriel Priestley, who was apparently my father's lawyer. I never heard of him, but I guess Dad had to use a lawyer for things other than patents."

"And what exactly does he want?" asked Gold. There was a harsh light in his eyes she couldn't place. She looked down at the pad she had written on.

"He says that he has something for me," she said. "The address is in Boston."

Gold sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the table. "Then we go to Boston," he said simply. "When are you free?"

Belle hesitated. "I don't have class on Wednesdays this semester," she said, and he nodded briskly.

"Tuesday night, then," he said. "Pack a bag, we'll get a hotel."

Belle's stomach lurched at the thought of a night with him away from the prying eyes of her friends and the other residents of Storybrooke. She caught his eye, and didn't miss the smouldering look he gave her. Ruby smirked, still watching them.

"So," she said eventually, when Belle had cleared away the dishes. "Do I need earplugs, or are you two done for the day?"

Gold raised a questioning eyebrow at Belle, a small grin curling the corners of his mouth, and she pulled a rueful face.

"I really need to get some studying done," she said reluctantly, and Ruby nodded.

"Good, so do I, you can keep me on the straight and narrow."

"And I need to go," said Gold, pushing himself up from the table. "I have somewhere to be." He tucked his phone back into his pocket as he went to pick up his coat and pull it on, inclining his head to her before walking out into the hallway.

Belle bounced up out of her seat to follow him and flung her arms around his neck as he turned to face her, making him chuckle. "Give Bae my regards," she said softly, and he smiled and kissed her, cupping her face with his hands and pulling at her lips with his. She sighed into him, her hands sliding around him, before pulling back regretfully as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Miss French," he said quietly. "The shop. Four o'clock. Not one minute later, do you understand?"

There was a frisson of excitement in her belly at the fire in his dark eyes, and she bit her lip, squirming.

"And we still have a dinner appointment," he added. She nodded, letting him pull away from her, and leant against the wall with a sigh as he gave her a brief smile and left. Grinning to herself, she turned towards the stairs and grasped the banister.

"Hey!" said Ruby sharply, from the kitchen. "Just where exactly do you think _you're_ going?"

Belle sighed, rolled her eyes, and walked back in to satisfy her friend's curiosity. She would never get any studying done at this rate.

* * *

"Belle, what the hell are you doing?"

Belle looked up from her position on the rug, lying on her front with papers, pictures and typed translations strewn all around her. Ruby was standing in the doorway with her arms folded, eyebrow raised quizzically.

"I had to spread it out so I could see it all," explained Belle, gesturing before her. "I have all this information and I'm trying to pull it all together, trying to explain the connections." She frowned pensively, staring at the documents. "I _know_ they're connected, I just don't know how yet."

"What is it?" asked Ruby, a curious look on her face. Belle pushed herself up and sat back on her heels with a sigh. She explained what she had been translating, the building works at the monastery, the construction of the vault, the visit of the Pope's delegation, the folk tales surrounding the area and the protection symbols drawn by the villagers, later used in a game by local children.

"I assumed that the vault was being built to house a holy relic," she said eventually. "But I can't find any mention of it in the documents. There's no explanation for the vault at all."

Ruby frowned, biting her lip as she studied the different translations.

"Maybe it's not a holy relic," she said suddenly. "Maybe it's something else."

Belle looked at her curiously. "Something valuable, do you think? Gold?"

Ruby shook her head. "Something dark," she said seriously. "I mean, look at the facts. They build this huge expensive vault at a tiny monastery in the middle of nowhere. Why? What's the point? They must have huge palaces and stuff to keep all the really important crap in. So why here?"

Belle frowned, looking at the work she had done. "You're right," she said softly. "I was too busy trying to work out how everything fitted together to think straight."

Ruby shrugged. "I'm taught to look for what's wrong with a picture, not what's right with it," she said, by way of explanation. Belle grinned at her, and picked up one of the numerous pieces of paper.

"And that might explain why Cardinal Zoso and his delegation arrive," she said excitedly. "The documents don't explain why he's coming, but it must have been a great honour for such a small order of monks. I assumed he was bringing a holy relic from the Pope and had insisted on the vault being built to keep it there." Her eyes shone with sudden enthusiasm. "Maybe it's not a relic at all, maybe it's a ceremony they need to perform, a cleansing!"

"Like an exorcism?" asked Ruby, interested, bending over the papers herself.

"Perhaps," Belle agreed. "Maybe that's why there's nothing down on paper, so to speak. Perhaps the monks were afraid they might be targeted by others and accused of heresy or witchcraft, if there were rumours of evil things there." She frowned thoughtfully. "Unless they didn't want to mention it because it's one of those 'name it and it has power' things."

Ruby curled her lip. "Yeah, right, a horror story failsafe. A nameless beast that none can slay," she teased, putting her hands up to her mouth in mock terror. "What happened next? Did they 'bell, book and candle' its ass back to Hell?"

"No," said Belle, biting her lip. "They died." Ruby sobered, and Belle waved an impatient hand. "Oh, I mean, they died of the plague. It swept through the area that year and devastated it. The arrival of the cardinal was one of the last entries. No-one left the monastery alive."

"Cheerful end to the story, Belle," remarked Ruby. "You might want to use a little artistic licence. Put in a love scene, or something."

Belle rolled her eyes, starting to collect up her papers. "Shut up and give me a hand, will you? I have to start looking into any rumours of the supernatural in the area. If there's something they were trying to imprison down there, I need to know what it was."

* * *

The next day, Belle trotted into Gold's shop at four on the dot, causing him to smile widely as he looked at her. She swept past him into the back room as she always did, secretly wondering whether she would manage to get any work done in his presence. To her surprise when he followed her, however, he merely kissed her deeply and then released her, stating that he had a contract to work on and wouldn't disturb her. Glaring after him, she pulled her books from her bag and slid onto one of the chairs, pulling out a translation of a series of tales from around the area of the monastery she had been learning about. As she worked, she recognised similarities between some of the tales and some old folk tales of Nordic origin that she was working on for her thesis. Scratching her nose absently, she frowned at the papers in front of her, and tried to recall something she had read on the origins of the area itself. Rifling through the pages to find the information she knew she had somewhere around, she sneaked a look at Gold, who was sitting at his desk and quietly scratching through paragraphs and making notes in the contract he was amending. She watched the lamplight gleaming from the gold ring he wore, the light casting a warm glow on the skin of his hands, and felt a pleasant tightening in her abdomen as she recalled what those hands were capable of. Shifting her position slightly, and telling herself to get a grip, Belle turned a page and made some brief notes, soon engrossed in what she was doing.

Gold glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that they had been working in near silence for almost two hours. He put down his pen, sitting up, and Belle stretched, arms in front of her with the heels of her hands pushing towards him, like a cat. She sent him a radiant smile that made him want to take her in his arms.

"I'd kill for a coffee," she said, and he chuckled.

"How about I get an extra large one from Granny's, point you in Regina's direction and let you get on with it?" he suggested, and she giggled.

"Let's see the coffee first," she insisted, turning back to her notes.

He walked to Granny's, smiling to himself. The diner was fairly busy, and his entrance set off a strange sort of whispering and muffled chuckling that made his eyebrows draw down. He ordered two coffees to go, tapping his fingertips on the bar in irritation, and watched the other patrons trying not to catch his eye. Ruby was clearing tables, smirking at him as she passed, and after several minutes in which he seriously contemplated increasing the rent of a few of the diner's occupants, Granny placed his coffees on the bar in a cardboard carrier and set a paper bag down in front of him with a grin. Gold stopped tapping immediately and pointed a long, accusatory finger at the bag.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously.

"On the house," Granny said briskly. "My special chocolate chip cookies. From what I hear you could use the extra calories." Gold frowned, and she continued. "I put a dozen in there, so I'm sure you'll be happy to give Belle six."

Ruby tried to conceal her snort of laughter, and failed miserably. Granny's eyes were glinting with amusement. Gold picked up the bag between finger and thumb with a cold smile.

"It would be my pleasure," he said acidly, tucking the bag under his arm and picking up the coffees.

"No doubt," said Granny cheerfully.

Gold gave her his most wintry stare, which didn't appear to faze her in the least, and walked stiffly through the door, hearing a buzz of conversation and giggling start up as he left. Shaking his head, he made his way back to the shop and handed Belle her coffee, dropping the cookies unceremoniously on the counter.

"Ooh, great, I was starving!" she exclaimed, biting into one with an expression of pleasure that he hoped he'd see again that day for more mutually-enjoyable reasons. She put her head on the side and looked at him. "What's up? You're usually happy after terrorising people in Granny's."

He sniffed. "Yes, well, that was before everyone knew the intimate details of our sex-life," he muttered, and Belle chuckled even as she blushed.

"Think of it this way," she commiserated. "Now they all know what a stud you are."

He gave her a flat look as she giggled, but smirked when she turned away and bit into one of the cookies. It was actually rather good.

Belle was engrossed in her perusal of an ancient manuscript when Gold bent his head to hers and whispered that he was going out and would be back soon. She shivered as she felt his breath on her ear, and almost grabbed him for a kiss, but he disappeared more quickly and silently than a man with a cane should be capable. Deciding she would make him kiss her twice to make up for it later, she turned back to her work. She was reading about a little village called Mirkenhole, which was situated not far from the monastery. One of the monks, Brother Philip, had written in the monastery accounts that the dozen lambs they usually received from the hamlet had not arrived that spring. Looking at the date in the ledger, Belle saw that it was 1349. She wondered if the Black Death had already found its way to the tiny settlement. The name of the village was not lost on her; she suspected that it had not always been so named, and wondered if she would be able to find any evidence to support her theories in the research she had collected. What she had studied thus far all seemed to point to a darkness descending on the area of Avonleigh, a terrible creeping menace, and despite the passage of many centuries it made Belle feel a little nervous, almost as though she was experiencing the devastation for herself. She wondered if she would ever find an explanation for what had happened, for what the Pope's delegation had been sent to deal with.

* * *

Doc was trying to find a bundle of papers which he knew he had placed _somewhere _in the boxes on the shelves above his desk. Having pulled a packing crate over to the relevant wall and stood on it to give himself a little more height, he was pawing through one of the dust-covered boxes in front of him when he suddenly stopped, his shoulders stiffening slightly.

"Hello, Marcus," he said quietly.

Gold stepped fully into the room, standing with his hands folded around the handle of his cane. "Doc," he acknowledged.

The diminutive professor turned slowly to face him, balanced somewhat precariously on the packing crate. "Been a while."

"Indeed." Gold stepped closer to the desk. "I was wondering when you'd show your hand."

Doc chuckled then. "I like to keep you guessing." He turned back to the box he was rifling through. "How's our girl doing?"

"Exceedingly well," said Gold, with a tiny, soft smile. Doc stopped what he was doing and whistled softly, bright eyes turning towards Gold.

"So, that's the way the wind blows, is it?" he said with a grin. "That was fast work."

"I find that time is entirely relative," remarked Gold dryly, and the other man chuckled.

"Yes, I imagine you would," he said. "Ah-ha!" He pulled a sheaf of papers from the box triumphantly. "I knew I had these somewhere!" Jumping down, he dropped the papers on his desk and eyed Gold beadily, motes of dust still clinging to his hair. "She's a very bright young woman, you know," he continued. "Likes to argue with me."

Gold grunted. "I had noticed that particular quality," he said. "What are you planning on giving her to study next?"

"Oh, I've got the Langfell papers to hand somewhere," said Doc dismissively. "I thought they might tie in with what she's doing in relation to the monastery."

Gold looked thoughtful. "Good. I'm waiting on a delivery of something that could provide us with some unexpected information on that quarter, providing she can read it." He smiled slightly. "I have every faith."

Doc sat down in his chair with a sigh and looked at him over the top of his glasses, threading his fingers together in front of him. "How much have you told her?"

"Nothing," said Gold shortly. "She's not ready."

Doc shook his head, tutting slightly. "I advise you to be careful. I seem to recall that you finding out at a later stage resulted in a decade or two of rebellion before you faced up to things." He shrugged. "Although, I suppose it did give you plenty of preparation, not to mention an excellent cover story."

"Yes, well," said Gold quietly, his grip tightening slightly. "I think the fates punished me quite well enough for my cowardice, don't you?"

Doc sighed. "Just think about it. She's open-minded and extremely curious. It won't be long before she starts to make the connections for herself."

"I know." Gold looked at the floor with a sigh, looking suddenly weary. "A selfish part of me wants to preserve her innocence."

"It's a little late for that, Marcus," said Doc gently.

He gave a wry smile. "I suppose it is."

There was silence for a moment. Doc sat back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach. "What about our friend in Boston?"

Gold frowned. "All quiet at the moment – it's suspicious. I think I may need to make some enquiries. Subtlety was never his strong point." He gave Doc a pointed look. "Are you safe here? I won't have her security compromised by your inability to keep your head down."

"Thank you for your consideration," said Doc dryly. "I assure you I'm fine. I rarely leave this place anyway."

"That must be why it's so incredibly depressing," remarked Gold, raising his eyes to the ceiling and making the other man chuckle. He held out a hand. "You can give me the Langfell papers. I'll pass them over."

Doc shrugged, and began digging in a box to his right, pulling out a heavy leather folder that looked as though it had seen better days. Gold tucked it under his arm, nodded, and turned to go.

"Be careful," Doc said quietly, and he showed his teeth, gold gleaming.

"Always."

* * *

Having left the top floor's dimly-lit and oppressive corridors, Gold made his way down to the second floor offices, where he was confident of finding Jefferson. Sure enough, the flamboyant teacher was sitting with his booted feet up on his desk, flicking through a fashion magazine and singing to himself. He looked up with a grin as Gold entered, and leapt from his chair in a flurry of long-limbed excitement.

"Gold!" he announced. "The rumours spread like wildfire! I humbly prostrate myself at the feet of the world's greatest love-god!" He swept an extravagant bow, and Gold sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Stand up, you idiot," he said witheringly. Jefferson grinned, straightening up and tapping his heels together in a mock salute.

"D'you know the townsfolk are calling you 'six-O-Gold' now?" he asked, with a grin.

"I highly doubt that," said Gold dryly, and Jefferson waved a dismissive hand.

"Okay, okay, I made that up, but they totally should!" he chuckled. "_Kudos_, man!" He held up his hand, palm upwards, seeking a high-five. Gold merely looked at him, and after a moment Jefferson shrugged and dropped his arm, bobbing up and down on his heels with poorly-suppressed glee.

"Do you think you could possibly contain your rampant ADHD for five minutes to discuss some work I have for you?" asked Gold, raising an eyebrow. Jefferson immediately sat down on his desk, ankles crossed and arms folded, the picture of rapt attention. Gold nodded. "I want you to keep a close eye on anything in Storybrooke that is – out of the ordinary," he said. "Anyone new in town, anyone acting out of character. Unexpected changes to people's lives and habits."

Jefferson puffed air through his cheeks. "That's a lot to cover."

"I'm confident you'll manage," said Gold dismissively. "Usual terms. Report to me weekly unless you uncover something important."

Jefferson nodded agreement. "Understood."

"Excellent." Gold turned to go. "And not one more word about my private life, by the way."

"Hey, I'm the soul of discretion!" protested Jefferson, holding up his hands with a wounded expression.

* * *

It was almost nine when Gold got back to the shop, and Belle was still working. She looked up curiously as he entered and slapped the leather folder he was carrying down on the workbench.

"What's this?" she asked, and his lips twitched slightly.

"Some new material for you," he said. "You should find these interesting."

She reached for them eagerly, a light of intrigue already shining in her eyes, and he took her hands before she could grab the folder. She looked up at him, confusion in her expression, and he slowly pulled her to her feet, drawing her to him so that her chest was pressed into his.

"I thought we might have dinner first," he said quietly, dropping his mouth to her throat and kissing his way up to her ear, making her shudder and clutch at him.

"Just dinner?" she murmured, and felt him smile against her neck.

"Whatever we have an appetite for," he whispered, and raised his head to kiss her. Belle could feel herself melting against him as the kiss deepened, her arms sliding around him and pulling him closer against her as she revelled in the feel of his lips and the warmth of his tongue and the hardness of his body. Eventually, his kisses became slower and softer, and he pulled back from her, breathing heavily.

"Where are we going for dinner tonight?" he asked, and she grinned mischievously.

"We're going to Granny's," she announced, and tapped him on the nose as he rolled his eyes. "I don't care if you pull that face at me. I want the biggest burger she can give me."

"Very well," he sighed, regretting that he had ever let her change the terms of their deal. As long as Mrs Lucas wasn't in the mood to poke fun at him, he supposed he could stand it. Besides, the burgers _were_ excellent.

* * *

Belle was pensive as she ate, and Gold watched her as she dipped her fries in ketchup and ate them slowly, eyes somewhere off in the distance.

"You seem distracted," he remarked, and she dropped her gaze to his with a start.

"I'm sorry, I haven't been very good company so far, have I?" she admitted. He smiled.

"Yours is the only company I can stand, most of the time," he said, and she gave him a fond smile.

"I was thinking about Dad," she confessed. He frowned slightly.

"Are you worried about going to Boston?"

"A little," she affirmed, stirring her iced tea with a straw absently. "I don't know what this cop wants, and I don't want to hear any more about how my Dad was a gambler and might have killed himself over debts."

Gold's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Is that what they think?"

"I don't know…he didn't _say_ that, I was just guessing." She bit her lip. "I just don't want to find out something horrible, that's all, like he was in debt to someone and didn't ask anyone for help. That his death could have been avoided." She looked down at her plate then, her lip wobbling slightly, and began blinking rapidly. He reached out and folded his fingers around hers, squeezing gently.

"We'll get to the bottom of it," he said quietly, and she looked up at him, smiling tremulously.

"I'm glad you're going with me," she said. "I don't know what to make of this lawyer, either. What do you think that's about?"

"I have no idea," he said honestly. "Try not to worry about it. We'll find out on Wednesday."

Belle sighed and nodded, turning back to her burger. They finished their meal in relative silence, and when Ruby had cleared away the plates, Belle fished her computer out of her bag to discuss the work she had done. It amused her no end that he was keeping rigidly to the terms of their deal, dinner on Mondays and Thursdays to discuss the work she was doing. She hoped that he wasn't planning on ending the evening on a purely professional basis, but had some ideas to persuade him otherwise, if that was the case.

"So, this is what I've got so far," announced Belle, opening up her laptop and sliding into the seat next to him. He put his hand on her thigh, as he'd wanted to the other time they had eaten dinner here, his fingers gently stroking the firm muscle through her tights. She shot him a heated, though slightly quelling, glance, and he settled for simply resting his hand there. He looked closely as she opened up some documents and took a deep breath.

"Okay, so everything seemed to point to the monks building the vault to house treasure of some kind," she began, sounding a little as though she were beginning a lecture, and making him smile. "The description of the delegation coming from the Pope reinforced that; I assumed that they were bringing holy relics with them and wanted somewhere secure to keep them when they weren't being used by the order." She flicked through the pages on the screen. "Only thing is, there aren't any descriptions in any of the documents about what they were. If it was a reliquary or the bones of a saint or – I don't know – a piece of the True Cross or something, surely it would have been mentioned."

"One would think," nodded Gold.

"So, Ruby gave me an idea," she continued, turning to him with a glint in her eye. "What if it's not something the Church is trying to keep safe? What if it's something the Church is trying to keep hidden?"

"Go on." He watched her closely, oddly fascinated by the way the light was gleaming on the curls of her hair. He tucked one behind her ear, making her smile.

"You remember that weird statement about the Dark One, at the back of the book?" she said. "I thought it was a reference to the plague, but what if it was something more? What if there actually _was _something dark at the monastery, and the monks were trying to contain it or get rid of it?" She looked excited, her cheeks a little flushed. "Perhaps that's what the visit of the Cardinal and his delegation was all about. It would certainly explain why there's all this correspondence from the Pope to a tiny monastery in the middle of nowhere, and the construction of an expensive vault."

"Like an exorcism, or a binding?" he suggested, and she nodded, dark curls bouncing.

"Do you have any other evidence to support your theory?" he asked, and she nodded again.

"Well, there are the folk tales from the area, of course," she said, chewing her lip vaguely as she looked at the screen. "I've found some evidence of stories of dark creatures and strange happenings going back to Viking times. I'd like to find more, but written records are hard to come by and are usually set down long after the event."

"Viking times?" he asked, interested, and she nodded with a brief smile.

"Yes, the area of Avonleigh was originally founded by the Danes, who used to raid the settlements there," she explained, flicking her eyes towards him. "I've been looking into the history of the area because I found some connections with folk tales I was looking at for my thesis. It looks as though it dates back to the eighth or ninth century, at least, that's the first indication I've found." She looked suddenly thoughtful. "I wonder if there was anything there when the Romans were in Britain. So much was lost in the Dark Ages…" She trailed off, her mind elsewhere.

"Avonleigh," he prompted gently, and she appeared to come back to him.

"Oh – yes. Eighth or ninth century. It wasn't called Avonleigh then, of course, but there's evidence of its true name in one of the tiny villages nearby – Mirkenhole."

"And what is that?"

"Well, I think it's an English bastardisation of the Old Norse," she said confidently. "It would have been Mrykrholr." Her pronunciation changed, the syllables becoming deeper and rounder in her mouth.

"Which means?" he asked, his heart thumping. She smiled.

"Dark Hollow."

* * *

**A/N: This took longer than I wanted to get up. I'm back at work now (both jobs) so don't have as much time to write, but I'm still aiming to update once a week at least.**

**Coming up: Belle and Gold go to Boston for answers, and Belle gets a surprise.**


	17. A Trip To Boston

**A/N: I still don't own Once Upon a Time. It really is frustrating**

**Jassy: sorry for grossing you out :P**

**Loop: no, please don't die! It wasn't intentional. Here's the next update.**

**Ripper: so glad you're enjoying it!**

**Ellie: thanks so much, I'm pleased you're enjoying the developments. More intrigue to come!**

**Autumn2374 (re chap 13 comment): well, they have been dancing around one another for a while now.**

**Deweymay, JustBFree, spacecats, Wondermorena, All Hallow's Eve31, paulawer, morgananne16, 9aza, cheesyteal'c, michellelramsey1, Lattelady, Helena Menezes, jewel415, Erik's True Angel, ecinspired, raeymaeker, orthankg1, RoxyMoron, blkroses, Twyla Mercedes: thanks so much for your continued support, encouragement and enthusiasm. I couldn't do it without my reviewers. Thanks to all who followed and favourited. Congratulations to ArtisticGirl2.0 who is the hundredth follower. You win…well, nothing, I'm afraid. I wish I could send you all cake, I really do. Have a chapter instead.**

* * *

Tuesday morning found Belle wrapped in Gold's arms in her bed. She was looking forward to that evening, when they would be staying in a hotel, and she wouldn't have to worry about muffling the sounds of their lovemaking so Ruby wouldn't hear. She had suggested going to his place, but he said he would take her there later in the week, so she relented and let him drive her home, the two of them saying a brief goodnight to Ruby, who was in the lounge reading a magazine. Ruby had rolled her eyes and very ostentatiously put on a pair of headphones, making Gold smirk. It had been fortunate that the sound-proofing option had been there; once they were in the bedroom he had stripped her naked and done things that made her unable to hold back her cries. Moving slightly, she realised that she was way too hot, and wished she hadn't decided to put her pyjamas on before going to sleep. He was still naked, pressed against her back, and stirred as he felt her wake.

"Tea," she mumbled, slipping from his grasp.

She went down to the kitchen, yawning sleepily and petting a yowling Malvolio, who wound himself around her legs until she fed him.

"Morning," said Ruby cheerfully, coming into the kitchen dressed for a run. Belle smiled at her as she began filling her water bottle.

"You know I'm going to Boston tonight, don't you?" she asked, and Ruby nodded.

"Yeah, no problem, I thought I might go and check on Snow, she doesn't seem herself."

"I noticed that," said Belle, frowning. "Give her my love, won't you?"

Ruby screwed on the top of her water bottle, wiping off the splashes. "Let me know what happens," she said gently. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Maybe the police have a lead."

"Maybe," Belle allowed, although she didn't hold out much hope. Ruby squeezed her arm and gave her a hug.

"I'm going out for an hour," she announced. "I'll see you at lunchtime, if you're free."

"One o'clock in the cafeteria," agreed Belle, pouring water into the teapot.

"Try not to wear him out," added Ruby. "He has to drive you to Boston, remember."

Belle shrugged, grinning wickedly. "We could always have Dover take us."

* * *

Belle pushed open the door and placed the tea tray on the dresser, turning to face his hungry stare. She looked down at herself. Her fluffy pyjamas (pale grey with a pattern of owls wearing mortarboards and perched on piles of books) were not exactly sexy.

"You read my mind," he murmured, rolling onto his back with his hands behind his head. "Take them off." She hesitated, dropping her hands to her buttons, and he shook his head, beckoning to her slowly. "Here," he said quietly, pointing at the bed beside him.

Blushing a little, she clambered onto the bed and unfastened her top, letting it slip from her shoulders and exposing her to his gaze. He reached up to touch her, hands cupping her breasts and pulling her gently towards him as his mouth met her skin. Belle gasped, hooking her fingers under the waistband of her pants. He helped her get rid of them, pulling back the bedclothes and drawing her to him, his skin burning her as he rolled her beneath him.

Gold kissed her breasts, taking a nipple between his lips and rolling his tongue around it, making her groan with pleasure. She could feel him hardening against her, and was more than willing to spend another hour in bed if only they had the time, but at that moment there was a soft _prrp _of greeting, and a black and white furry body leapt onto Gold's back, making him let out a surprised yelp. Belle giggled.

"It's only the cat," she said, and he huffed, rolling off her onto his back and dislodging Malvolio, who promptly transferred his attentions to Belle.

"Latin name _coitus interruptus_," he grumbled. She giggled again, stroking the furry interloper, who was butting his head against her fingers.

"He likes you," she said, snuggling against him and dragging the cat with her. "Now I get to spend time with both of my boys."

"Hmm, being purred at is only sexy when it's you doing it," he pointed out, and she pouted.

"I have class soon, anyway," she said reluctantly. "I'm afraid we can't. You'll have to be content with tea."

"I'm not sure I'm happy with the terms of this arrangement," he said softly, kissing her shoulder and making her squirm.

"You'll have me all to yourself this evening," she reminded him. "Surely you can contain yourself until then?"

His smile was dark. "Ah, so you're going to withhold your sweet favours from me? You may just have to suffer for that. Very well, I'm prepared to wait." His eyes glinted at her. As long as _you're_ prepared to accept the consequences."

Her belly tightened pleasantly. "Will my punishment be severe?" she asked playfully, and he bent his head to her neck, gently biting her flesh.

"Relentless," he murmured, making her shiver, her breath quickening.

"Let me just put the cat out," she gasped, and felt him smile.

"It's far too late for that, my little beauty," he whispered. "The deal is struck."

* * *

Gold collected Belle from her house at four on the dot, and she stowed her overnight bag in the rear of the Cadillac, equal amounts of excitement and trepidation swooping through her. She was looking forward to their night away, but she really didn't know what to expect from her visits to the police and the lawyer. The journey passed in companionable silence for the most part, Belle looking out of the window at the snow-covered woods surrounding them until it was too dark to see.

When they arrived at the hotel, a handsome old building with a quaint lobby of marble and thick carpets, they were taken by a smartly-dressed attendant to a suite on the penthouse floor, and Belle tried not to gasp as they were shown inside. The room was spacious and warm, decorated in period colours and furnished with what look like antique pieces, though Belle accepted that she wasn't a very good judge of the authenticity of furniture. The suite had a large living area with couches, a mahogany desk and chairs and a flat-screen TV (the only thing that appeared to be modern) against the wall. The bedroom contained an enormous canopied bed and led to a large en-suite bathroom with a shower and an old-fashioned, claw-foot bathtub which Belle was sure they would both fit in easily. She immediately made up her mind that a bath was something she intended to have before they left.

"Does it meet with your approval?" asked Gold, with a grin, as she turned to face him with sparkling eyes. She threw her arms around him.

"Oh! It's lovely! I'm so excited!"

He chuckled, patting her back fondly, and put his hands on her waist as she settled back on her heels. "Good. I have something for you. I placed an order with the concierge yesterday."

He took her hand, leading her back into the bedroom, and she followed him curiously. He reached for a large bag, which had been sitting on the dresser when they entered the room, and held it out to her, the handle swinging from his outstretched fingers. Belle took it.

"For me?" she asked, and he nodded. She opened the bag, and pulled out a pile of something soft, wrapped in pale blue tissue paper. She tore open the paper excitedly and tipped the contents onto the bed, revealing three nightgowns. The first was short, of royal blue silk trimmed with ivory lace, the second was also short and was grey silk, trimmed with white lace, and the third was full-length and was the deep green of a forest in summer, trimmed with black lace. She noted that all would suit her colouring perfectly.

"_Oh!"_ she breathed, turning to face him. He shrugged.

"Yes, well, adorable though you are in your fluffy pyjamas – which I know you've packed, by the way – I hoped to get you into something a little more aesthetically pleasing tonight." He grinned suddenly. "Mainly so that I can then get you out of it."

"They're beautiful," she said, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. He smiled and put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing her gently.

"I have some work I have to get through this evening," he said. "Get settled in. We can order room service when you're hungry. Just make yourself comfortable."

* * *

She took him at his word, and while he seated himself at the mahogany desk and lifted a pile of papers from the case he had brought, she made him some tea, smiling as she saw that the hotel had provided a teapot and loose tea, along with a set of china cups. She suspected that he had made this a specific requirement when he booked. She carried his tea to him, earning an absent smile as he looked up, and drank her own seated on the enormous bed, reading the book she had brought. Once she had drunk her fill, she decided to take a shower, and had fun poking through the expensive toiletries provided before stepping beneath the water and lathering herself with rose-scented bubbles. He was still working when she emerged, swathed in the fluffy bathrobe provided by the hotel, so she spent a little time pampering herself, drying her hair, stroking on moisturiser and plucking anything that needed it. She laid out the three nightgowns on the bed, pondering her choice, and decided on the blue, as she felt that it was probably his favourite. Pulling it on and eyeing herself in the mirror, she noted how the colour set off the blue of her eyes and the paleness of her skin. Her reflection smiled back at her, eyes knowing, and she padded softly through to the other room, her toes sinking pleasantly into the thick carpet.

"Marcus?" Her voice cut through what he was concentrating on, and he looked up briefly, before sitting back and putting his pen down, turning towards her in his chair. She hung back a little, the dark blue silk skimming her slender form and reaching part-way down her thighs, the ivory lace kissing her skin, and only a shade or so paler. Her dark curls were falling past her shoulders, framing her beautiful face, her eyes large and dark in the soft light of the room. He felt himself twitch at the sight of her.

"Well, well," he breathed. "Don't you look delicious?" He crooked a finger invitingly. "Come here, my beauty."

Belle walked towards him shyly, hips rolling delightfully under the silk, and he gently took them in his hands, pulling her towards him to stand between his thighs. His mouth was level with the mounds of her breasts, and he let his face fall between them with a sigh, breathing in the scent of her as his hands slid down to cup her buttocks. She stroked his hair gently and he nuzzled her, his lips pushing aside the lace to kiss her right breast, tongue seeking her nipple. She gasped, her nails digging into his scalp and making him growl.

"I was going to punish you, wasn't I?" he whispered, suckling her and making her arch her body into him.

"Yes!" she gasped. "What are you going to do to me?"

He smiled against her, transferring his mouth to the other breast, his hands stroking up her arms. "You must suffer the torment of hours of pleasure, my little beauty," he breathed, and she giggled, her chin jutting defiantly as she faced him.

"Do your worst, beast," she teased. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Foolish," he said softly. "Foolish to tempt the beast, dearie." He looked up at her with gleaming eyes that made her breath catch, a slow grin spreading across his face as his hands slid down to her waist. His voice was low and rough, almost a whispered declaration of his intent, and she shivered slightly as she moved a little closer to him.

He pulled her down onto his lap, her legs straddling him, and grinned at her wickedly as he slid his hand beneath her nightgown and up between her thighs. Belle gasped as he touched her, tightening her grip on his hair and writhing against him, and he purred an incoherent word to her as he slipped a finger inside her, his thumb stroking her gently and making her moan. She bent her head to kiss him, her tongue pushing in between his lips and stroking against his. He rumbled appreciation low in his chest and gripped her more tightly, pulling his mouth away to kiss her breasts, fingers sliding rhythmically. Belle gasped, her body starting to tense, and he pulled back to gaze at her.

"Look at me, darling," he whispered urgently. "Let me see you, my Belle, my sweet."

She opened her eyes and locked them on his, the irises dark blue with want as his movements quickened, and he watched them glaze over as she clamped down on him with a cry of pleasure, her cheeks flushing as she came apart in his arms.

"Oh _Belle!"_ he breathed, stroking her gently to bring her down from her high before withdrawing his touch. He held her close as she fell against his neck, her fragrant hair covering him as she panted in his ear, her entire body shaking. He unfastened his belt and pants as she shuddered in his arms, pulling her a little closer so that he could position himself at her entrance. Somewhat sleepily, she lifted herself slightly and lowered her body onto him, making him groan at the feel of her, the warmth and wetness and the tight grip she had on him. He pushed his hands through her hair, pulling her back from him a little so that he could see her. She was so beautiful, her cheeks pink, her eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy, yet dark with lust, her full lips red and parted, awaiting his kiss. She began to move, her hands bracing on his shoulders, her hips rocking back and forth and sending waves of pleasure through him.

"So _good!_" he whispered, dropping his hands to her hips. Slowly, he pushed the nightgown up, exposing the milky skin of her belly, her waist, the soft undersides of her breasts, encouraging Belle to lift her arms. Peeling off the nightgown, he threw it from her, leaving her pale and naked atop him while he was still fully-clothed, an outcome which he found extremely arousing. He dipped his head to her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and making her moan and press herself into him. Belle shifted as close to him as she could get, the pressure building and making her start to see stars. The material of his silk shirt and suit pants was rubbing at her inner thighs, causing a delicious friction, and she quickened her pace, grinding against him.

"Don't stop, Belle," he breathed. "So close." She kept her rhythm, her hands in his hair, and he threw his head back, swearing loudly as he spilled himself inside her, his hands gripping her hips almost painfully. She continued to move, knowing she was close, his hand creeping around to slip between them. She let her head fall back with a gasp as he touched her firmly and she came around him, crying out and writhing in his lap. For a minute or so there was nothing but the sound of them trying to catch their breath, then she sat up and kissed his forehead sleepily.

"You have magic fingers," she slurred, rubbing her cheek against his. He chuckled.

"Wait until you find out the spells my tongue can weave," he murmured, and she shivered with anticipation, winding her arms around him.

"You'll get cold," he said gently, and she mumbled, sinking into him.

"I'd like to take a bath," she said sleepily. "Join me?"

"Very well." He put a finger under her chin, raising her head to his so that he could kiss her. "Let me know when you're ready."

While she ran the bath, he ordered room service, champagne and oysters and bitter chocolate terrine. They enjoyed their order while in the bath, Belle lying back against his chest and his legs draped over the sides.

"This feels incredibly decadent," she said contentedly, licking chocolate from her fingers after feeding him a piece of the dessert. He smiled against her hair.

"No more than we deserve, I thought."

She took a sip of champagne. "You're trying to corrupt me," she said accusingly, and he chuckled.

"Always."

She lay back against his chest with a sigh. "I don't know what to expect from tomorrow," she said. "I'm worrying about it."

"Don't think of it," he said quietly, kissing her head, and she turned, sliding around in the bath to face him.

"Help me forget," she said coyly, and he smiled, taking her glass from her.

* * *

He kept his word about her 'punishment', and it was after two by the time they fell asleep. The next morning, warm and groggy with sleep, they ate Eggs Benedict in bed and drank coffee in an attempt to revive themselves. Belle had enjoyed sleeping in the huge canopied bed, and wished her own was as comfortable. Now that she was awake, and due to see the police in less than an hour, Belle was nervous all over again.

"Do you think they'll have caught someone?" she asked, sipping her coffee. Gold shrugged.

"I think it's unlikely," he said. "I should imagine they want to speak to you about your father's habits, his acquaintances, that sort of thing."

Belle sighed. "They'd be better off speaking to Mum. I have no idea who he spent time with beyond a few of his friends."

Gold drained his cup. "Well, I suppose the sooner we get there, the sooner we'll find out."

The police department was bustling, with officers striding back and forth, occasionally accompanied by what were clearly civilians, some of whom appeared to be on the wrong side of the law. Belle asked for Detective Alvarez at the desk and gave her name to the officer on duty. She and Gold then waited patiently on vinyl-covered chairs that had been bolted to the floor and were highly uncomfortable.

"Belle French?" They looked up as a tall man approached them, black hair worn slightly long at the back to disguise its thinness. His badge identified him as the detective Belle had been asked to meet with, and she shook his outstretched hand as he introduced himself.

"Please, come this way," said Detective Alvarez, gesturing towards the corridor he had emerged from. It led to a number of offices, and he opened a door to the third one down and motioned for them to enter.

"Thank you for coming in, Miss French," began Alvarez. "It's good of you to make the journey. This weather's something, huh?" He grinned, his face wearing a friendly, open expression that Belle didn't entirely trust. She shot a glance at Gold.

"We do have places to be, Detective, so if you wouldn't mind…" drawled Gold.

Alvarez looked Gold up and down, frowning slightly.

"I'm sorry, you are..?" he asked, and Gold sniffed.

"I'm Mr Gold, Miss French's lawyer," he said coldly. The detective's mouth dropped open a little, and he shot a glance at Belle.

"Miss French, you're not under suspicion of any kind," he said gently. "This really isn't necessary."

"We'll decide what's necessary, thank you, Detective," said Gold dismissively. "Now, would you care to inform my client exactly why she's here?"

"Er…" Detective Alvarez seemed momentarily thrown, but recovered quickly, showing Belle to a seat across from him. Gold perched on the chair next to her, hands on his cane, watching the detective with narrowed eyes.

"We're waiting," he said impatiently, and the detective frowned at him.

"Yes, well – Miss French, I'm still investigating your father's death, but I'm afraid we haven't yet apprehended a suspect."

"So he was definitely murdered, then?" asked Gold, and the other man nodded.

"I believe so. Some of my colleagues thought it might be suicide when we uncovered the gambling, but we're certain it's murder now."

"And what exactly has caused this – change of heart?" asked Gold. Alvarez swallowed.

"Look, I don't really think your client wants to be…"

"Please," interrupted Belle, before Gold could speak to her. "Please, I need to know."

Alvarez sighed, running his hands through his thinning hair. "We got the autopsy results," he said unwillingly. "The cause of death was a gunshot wound, as you know, but there was evidence of injuries that were secondary to the fatal wound."

Belle clapped her hand to her mouth, and Gold frowned at the detective.

"I presume you do not mean self-inflicted injuries," he said, and Alvarez shook his head.

"He was _tortured?" _asked Belle, in a small, broken voice. Alvarez sighed uncomfortably. This was clearly not the conversation he had wanted to have.

"Which brings us to the reason for our meeting," he said gently, looking at her with kind eyes. "I need a list from you of everyone he spent time with."

"I can give you a list of some of his friends," said Belle, sniffing slightly. "But Mum would know more. Have you asked her?"

"Yes. However, anything you can tell us would be useful," said Alvarez. "Do you have any idea who he met when he was out gambling? Who he spent time with then?"

"He didn't gamble, I've already told you!" snapped Belle, feeling the tears beginning to start in her eyes. Gold shot her a quelling glance.

"My client is unaware of any gambling," he said coldly. "Might I ask why you're so sure that this was his vice?"

"We found some chips in his room," said Alvarez. "Casino chips. That, and his money troubles – it all points one way to us."

"Chips could have been left by the intruders," said Gold dismissively. "Which casino was it? Perhaps you could look at the security camera footage."

"We did." Alvarez pressed some keys, then turned the computer monitor to face them. Belle gasped. The picture showed grainy footage of her father, standing in the entrance of what she assumed was a casino, twisting his baseball cap in his hands and frowning, before entering. The next clip was of him leaving the same way he had come. Gold shrugged.

"So, he went to a casino." he said. "So what? It proves nothing. Do you have any footage of him at the tables?"

"No," admitted Alvarez. "The security footage for inside the casino for that night didn't come out."

Gold eyed him shrewdly. "What do you mean, it didn't come out? Do you mean it was entered into evidence and then somehow miraculously disappeared?"

Alvarez looked uncomfortable. "I just know it's not working now."

Gold scowled. "And this is the only evening for which you have footage of him?"

"It is." Alvarez seemed to realise that his gambling theory was looking somewhat thin, and added: "of course, there is the possibility of private games, away from the premises. The individuals that get involved in those kind of things can be – nasty."

"You keep mentioning these money troubles he's supposed to have had," said Belle. "But when I saw him last month he said he'd had a good year. I wasn't aware of any money problems."

"His bank account was heavily in the red when he was killed," said Alvarez, tapping his pen on his notes. "We also found receipts from a pawn shop in amongst his things. I'm making enquiries with the owner to see if he remembers your father pawning goods there."

"Which pawn shop?" asked Gold, and Alvarez studied his notes quickly, pulling out a copy of a receipt.

"It's down near the harbour," he said. Gold's hands tightened on his cane, squaring his jaw as he recognised the name.

"My client was initially told that the incident arose due to a burglary," he said. "Can you confirm that?"

"That's what it looks like," confirmed Alvarez. "The house was a real mess."

"So what was taken?"

He hesitated. "We don't know yet," he admitted. "The safe was empty, but Mrs French had her jewellery with her in Maui, and there were no other valuables listed on the insurance." He looked at Belle. "Do you know what he kept there? Perhaps, if something comes on the market…"

"He kept his patent papers in there," said Belle thickly, trying not to cry. "I don't think there was anything else. He had nothing valuable of his own, no jewellery anyway."

Alvarez nodded slowly. "We found patent papers in the room. Whatever they were looking for, perhaps they didn't find it." He leant forward, trying to catch Belle's eye. "Did he perhaps leave you anything? A letter, anything that might give us something to look into?"

"I…" began Belle, but Gold cut over her.

"Are you perhaps suggesting that Mr French arranged his own brutal murder and took time to get his affairs in order beforehand?" he asked thinly. "Perhaps you think that he persuaded his killers to hold off for a while as he composed a letter to his daughter."

Alvarez's mouth tightened in irritation. "Of course not, but if he was being threatened…"

"My client has already indicated that she knew of no threats to her father's life, nor of any involvement in the murky underworld you seem to be desperate to construct in the affluent Boston suburb he called home," said Gold disparagingly. "Do you have any actual evidence in this case, or do you merely carry on your police work on the basis of hunches and guesses? I half expect to be told that you've consulted a psychic."

Alvarez flushed with anger. "I assure you I've got my best men on this case…" he began.

"No doubt all members of the criminal fraternity of Massachusetts are quaking in their beds," said Gold dryly. "In the meantime, my client still has no answers as to who killed her father, and why."

Belle looked at the floor, feeling the tears start to drip from her eyes, and Gold gave her a concerned look, sighing as he noticed her distress.

"Is there anything else, Detective?" he asked quietly. Alvarez hesitated, then shook his head. Gold nodded, and squeezed Belle's shoulder.

"Then we'll bid you good day," he said coldly. "If you should have any actual developments in the case, we would be only too happy to return. Do please refrain from further disturbing my client with your idle speculations and baseless hypotheses in future." He helped Belle to her feet and led her from the room with a hand on her shoulder. Alvarez glared after him.

"Asshole," he muttered, turning back to his notes.

* * *

Belle lasted until they had left the police station, before bursting into tears and flinging herself against him, making him stagger.

"They know _nothing!"_ she sobbed. "They're just jumping to conclusions! They'll never find out who killed him because they don't _care!"_

Gold had to agree with her. The matter of the missing evidence was suspicious, to say the least. He could understand why the chairs in the waiting area were bolted down now; he felt like throwing one of them at the hapless detective. He let her cry for a moment, stroking her hair, then gently raised her head to look at him, wiping the tears from her face with his thumb.

"You stopped me telling him about the lawyer," she sniffed, and he nodded.

"Yes. I don't trust him."

Belle shook her head. "Nor do I, I have to say," she admitted, wiping her eyes. The cold wind on her cheek felt as though it was freezing her tears.

"If you can't face the lawyer today, we can leave now," he said quietly, and she took a deep breath, shaking her head.

"No, I want it over with," she said decidedly, her lip wobbling. He nodded, flourishing his handkerchief so that she could clean herself up a little.

"What time is your first class tomorrow?" he asked, and she sniffed, giving him a curious glance.

"After lunch," she said. "Why?"

He stroked her cheek. "How would you like to stay an extra night?" he asked, and she smiled tremulously.

"I'd like that."

"Excellent, let me call the hotel." He fished in his pocket for his phone, and she tucked her arm through his as they set off to find the lawyer.

* * *

Gabriel Priestley's office was in a shiny, glass-fronted modern building, but the man himself reminded Belle of a large insect, perhaps a praying mantis or something similar. He was tall and gaunt and stoop-shouldered, with a fringe of pale grey hair running around the back of his head, the rest of his head bald and shiny. He had a long chin and nose, upon which perched large round glasses that magnified his grey eyes, and he walked slowly and stealthily, as though he was constantly trying to sneak up on some unsuspecting prey. He gave Belle the creeps, but she shook his hand briefly as he motioned them into his office and moved to sit behind his desk, long fingers tented in front of him.

"Such a pleasure to meet you, Miss French," he said in a high, whispery voice that added to Belle's sense of unease. _Not a praying mantis_, she decided as she looked at his long, pale hands. _Nosferatu_.

"I haven't seen your poor father in some time, but of course I was aware of his passing," he continued. "Dreadful business." He shook his head.

"Thank you," said Belle, fidgeting nervously. Gold put a careful hand on her knee, and she stilled. "I understand that he left something for me."

"Indeed. I had it removed from the safe this morning." Priestley unlocked the drawer of his desk and removed a long envelope. "I was instructed to hand this over to you on the occurrence of his death. Of course, I did not realise that it would be quite so soon, he was not an old man…"

"Yes, thank you," interrupted Gold, frowning at him. "We're aware of the unexpected nature of Mr French's passing."

Priestley handed the envelope to Belle, who took it hesitantly. The paper was thick, excellent quality, and she could feel that there was a document of some sort inside it.

"Is that it?" she asked, and he smiled a thin, ancient smile.

"That's it, my dear," he said gently. "As for his will, everything was left to your mother, as you know."

Belle nodded. "She mentioned it. I expected that." She turned the envelope over and over in her hands, wondering what it contained. She wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to open it. "Do I have to sign anything?"

"If you could sign this to say that you have received the item, our business will be concluded," he confirmed, pushing a piece of paper towards her. Gold scanned it quickly before allowing her to sign with his fountain pen, and they left the lawyer's offices with a sense of relief. Belle sighed and leant against him as they stood on the pavement. Snow was starting to fall again, adding to that already lying to the edges of the cleared streets, and the wind was biting.

"I want hot chocolate," she announced suddenly, and he smiled and steered her towards the nearest coffee house, selecting a quiet booth for them to sit in out of the press of people near the counter. Once steaming cups of chocolate were in front of them, Belle sat there, nervously twisting the envelope over and over in her hands. Her name was written on the front, along with her father's name and some sort of reference number, which she presumed had been for the lawyer's own system. He watched her thoughtfully for a moment, his finger stroking against his lips.

"Are you going to open it?" he asked quietly, and she bit her lip, still turning the envelope over, as though she was unable to stop, as though the repetitive action would somehow protect her.

"I don't know," she admitted. "If it's a letter from him, I'll probably cry. I don't want to do that here."

"I understand." He sipped at his chocolate. "We could go back to the hotel."

Belle sighed. "I think I _have_ to open it, don't I?" she said reluctantly. "I know, I'll see what's inside first, then I can decide whether I want to read it or not."

"As you wish." He watched her as she pushed her thumb underneath the sealed flap of the envelope and gently pulled it open, withdrawing a sheaf of paper. Something hit the table top with a tiny clink, and they both looked down to see a small key.

"Okay…" said Belle, surprised. "I wasn't expecting that. What does it fit, d'you think?"

Gold picked up the key between thumb and forefinger, looking it over, with a slight frown.

"It's a safety deposit box key," he said. "Your father left you something that he didn't want to keep at his house."

"I guess that means the police don't know about it either," said Belle. "Do you think this is what whoever – killed him – wanted?"

Gold placed the key back on the table. "I guess we won't know until we find out what's inside the box," he said quietly.

"How do we find out where it is?" she asked, and he nodded to the papers in her hand.

"I think the answer may be in there," he said, his eyes sombre. Belle held his gaze for a moment, then dropped her glance to the papers in her hand and sighed.

"I guess that settles it," she said unwillingly.

* * *

**A/N: This is a day later than I intended to post – FanFiction kept freaking out on me. Good news, next update should be this weekend.**

**Coming up: Belle gets a message from her father, and Gold pays someone a late-night visit.**


	18. Voices From The Past

**A/N: There's some violence in this chapter, just so you know.**

**Thanks to all who followed and favourited.**

**RoxyMoron, Wondermorena, cheesyteal'c, michellelramsey1, morgananne16, emmaleewhittaker, jewel415, orthankg1, paulawer, JustBFree, deweymay, The Prince's Phoenix, blkroses, Erik'sTrueAngel, CharlotteAshmore, Rafire: thank you all so much for your comments, here's the next update.**

* * *

Belle opened up the sheaf of papers with a sigh, her heart thumping in her chest. Immediately, she recognised her father's writing, and clapped her hand to her mouth. Gold watched her, concern on his face, reaching up to stroke her hair, but she shook her head, steadying herself, and began to read. The letter was smudged in places, with many crossings-out, and his writing seemed to shake towards the end, but she could still make out the words.

_My darling Belle,_

_If you're reading this, then what I was afraid of has already come to pass, and I'm no longer with you. I hope that it's many years since I wrote this, and that you've lived a full and happy life, that you married and gave me half a dozen grandkids before I went. But something tells me that the fates are not that kind._

_I want you to know that you are everything I could have wanted in a daughter; beautiful, kind and so, so clever. I have no idea where you got all that, but it certainly wasn't me, darling! Try not to be too hard on your Mum; she loves you but doesn't know how to show it like you and I do, and I think she feels left out sometimes because of the bond that you and I have._

_You're probably wondering why I left this letter with Priestley instead of keeping it in the safe at home. The fact is, your grandmother always taught me never to keep anything in the house that I wasn't afraid to lose. You remember your grandma, I'm sure. She told me she would die before her time, by the hand of another. I put it down to paranoia, but I'm getting the same feelings now, and it scares me enough to write this to you._

_The key is from her. It's for a safety deposit box in her maiden name, held at the Eastern Bank on Dartmouth. The number of the box is the number of her old address in Melbourne. I know you'll remember it. I should have passed this on to you when she died, but you were so young, and I didn't want her filling your head with her stories. I only ever wanted to protect you, please understand that, my darling. Your grandma left money to pay the fees for the box when she died, and as far as I know there's no one else that knows about it. Take it, my girl, and try not to think too badly of me. Remember that I love you, and I always will. I'm so proud of you, Belle._

_All my love_

_Dad_

Belle gulped, tears pouring down her cheeks as she pushed the letter towards Gold and grabbed a paper napkin to cover her sobbing. He was out of his chair in a moment, sliding onto the seat next to her and taking her in his arms as she wept. He held her, making soothing noises low in his throat as he stroked her hair, and eventually she straightened up, wiping her face and letting him kiss the tears from her reddened eyes. He pushed her hot chocolate towards her and she pulled back from him, folding her hands around the warm cup and burying her nose in its fragrant steam. He tucked a curl behind her ear gently.

"Did you read it?" she asked hesitantly, and he shook his head.

"Do you want me to?"

She nodded, and he picked up the letter, frowning as he scanned it. Belle sank a little lower in her seat, as though she could see the words once more through his eyes.

"He knew he was going to die," she said brokenly, and Gold shook his head.

"He had a feeling," he corrected. "It doesn't mean he'd been threatened. If he had, why not tell you who was after him? We don't know when the letter was written, after all."

Belle shrugged miserably. "At least we know where the box is," she sniffed, wiping her eyes again. He gave her a concerned look.

"Do you want to go there today?" he asked, and she nodded.

"When we've finished here. I just want to get whatever the hell it is, go back to the hotel and pretend this horrible day is over," she said, lower lip trembling.

* * *

They managed to find the bank with no difficulties, and Belle presented the key to a stern-looking woman with blond hair scraped back from her pinched face.

"It's box 1216, in the name of Reilly," she said, suddenly unsure of herself. Having read something on the computer screen in front of her, then checked Belle's ID, the woman nodded briskly. She handed back the key, and led them to a room with no windows, filled with safety deposit boxes on every wall. Gold sat calmly in one of the chairs provided, but Belle paced the room anxiously, twisting her fingers around one another as though she was playing cat's cradle. He eyed her cautiously; she had stopped crying, but the day had clearly left her emotional and fragile. He decided to order room service rather than take her out for dinner; a bath and a decent night's sleep would do her good. The severe-looking woman scanned the rows of boxes until she located 1216, then inserted a key into one of the two locks and twisted it.

"It's all yours, ma'am," she said. "Please press the buzzer when you're done."

Hesitantly, Belle held up the small key in her hand, and pushed it into the second lock, turning it smoothly. She heard a dull clunk from within the mechanism, and pulled on the small handle to release the box from its housing. Placing it on the table, she shot a nervous look at Gold, and opened it up. Inside was a leather satchel, which looked decades old but was still in good condition. Belle lifted it out and opened it curiously. She pulled out an envelope of old, thick cream paper, a hefty, leather-bound book fitted with a clasp, and a small blue velvet pouch, containing something that felt round and hard. She laid the items before her on the table, and looked at Gold.

"I don't know what I was expecting," she admitted. "But this wasn't it."

"Don't open them here," he said quietly, "I suggest we take them back to the hotel." She nodded.

"Yes, this place gives me the creeps." She packed everything into the satchel, replaced the box and locked it, pocketed her key, and pressed the buzzer to get out.

* * *

Ruby was working a busy lunchtime shift when Emma entered the diner for take-out coffees, and looked up with a smile as the blonde woman approached. Emma grinned as she saw that Snow was also sitting at the bar, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands.

"Hey girls," said Emma briskly. "Anyone hear from Belle?"

"She's staying another night," said Ruby with a knowing smirk, pouring three coffees and setting them on a tray. "Back tomorrow." She carried the drinks to a table by the door, and skipped back to join her friends.

"What d'you think she's doing in Boston, besides seeing the cops?" asked Emma, and Ruby shrugged.

"My guess is, she's upside down and screaming for whatever deity she can think of," she said with a grin. Emma groaned.

"Gross, Rubes."

Ruby shrugged again. "Hey, I'm just going on what Belle told me," she said. "I guess she'll fill you guys in on Friday. Who would have guessed it of Gold?" She snickered.

Snow looked thoughtful. "D'you think he's..?" she began.

"No," interrupted Emma firmly. "I _don't_ think. I don't _want_ to think."

"Well, maybe it's just with Belle," continued Snow, oblivious to Emma's disgust. "You know how sometimes you can just have this _connection_ with someone?" Her eyes looked a little dreamy, but she suddenly grinned and looked at Emma. "Maybe, if it was _you_…"

"Snow, as long as you don't finish that sentence I won't have to kill you," warned Emma. Ruby winced.

"Sorry, just got a scary mental image," she said apologetically. Emma glared at her, then shrugged.

"Ah, what do I know?" she relented. "She seems happy, at least." The others nodded.

"Could one of you lovely ladies tell me where I might get a room for the night?" An unfamiliar voice made them look around, to see a tall, dark-haired man smiling at them with very white, even teeth. Ruby's eyebrows quirked in interest and she shared a glance with Snow. The man shared his smile between the three of them, the leather coat and dark stubble on his chin giving him a rakish look.

"New in town?" asked Emma, and he stuck out a hand.

"I'm James," he said. "James Hook."

Ruby shared an amused look with Emma. "Your parents big _Peter Pan_ fans, or did they just hate you?"

"I have no idea," he said smoothly. "Child of the system. I never knew them."

Ruby looked uncomfortable. "Oh, hey, sorry."

"Well, perhaps you'd do me the honour of having a drink with me, and we'll call it even," he said with a grin, leaning on the bar and raising suggestive eyebrows at her.

"Er – maybe," said Ruby coyly. "If you're looking for a room, Granny rents out. I can take you round there, if you like."

"Looks as though it's my lucky day," he said with a smirk, and followed Ruby around to the B & B. Emma watched them leave, frowning slightly.

"He's very arrogant," she remarked, and Snow chuckled.

"Yeah, arrogant, gorgeous, and clearly into Ruby. Just her type, I'd say."

Emma grunted. "Yeah, isn't that usually the problem?" She drummed her fingers on the bar as they waited for Ruby to return. When she did, she was alone, but had a light in her eyes and a spring in her step that made Emma groan inwardly.

"So, who's our mysterious stranger?" asked Snow, and Ruby grinned.

"He's a welder," she said. "He's in town for a couple of weeks with another guy, doing repair work on one of the warehouses down by the docks."

"So, where's his friend?" asked Emma, and she shrugged.

"Dunno. He booked a twin room, though."

"And?" prompted Snow. Ruby squirmed a little.

"And, I'm meeting him for a drink here, tonight, after my shift," she said. She frowned as she saw Emma and Snow exchange a glance. "It's just a drink, nothing else. I've learnt my lesson on that one."

"Okay," said Emma, holding up her hands. "If you need me to help you get rid of him, just pick up the phone."

Snow put down her empty cup. "Well, I'd better get back to school," she sighed. "The kids are doing dioramas this afternoon, and if I don't get back in time it'll be safety scissor battles and glitter bombs."

Emma snorted, and took her coffees from Ruby. "Yeah, and I have to go and catch some bad guys, which in this town means scraping Leroy out of the gutter when he's had too many."

"Hey, I'm right here!" objected Leroy, from behind her, scowling.

* * *

Belle was silent on the way back to the hotel, and Gold left her to her thoughts, her arm linked through his as they walked. He was mulling over a few things in his head as well; there was a visit he intended to pay that evening, and some enquiries that he needed to make, but he wanted to ensure that she was settled and reasonably happy beforehand.

Once in their suite, Belle threw the satchel onto the desk and slumped onto the couch with a sigh. Gold lowered himself down beside her, and she nestled against him.

"Tell me about your grandmother," he said quietly, and she sat up with a sudden smile.

"She died when I was eight," she explained. "She was lovely, full of energy, very intelligent. She came from a little village in the north of England, and moved out to Australia with my grandpa in the 1960s. She kept her accent though; she always used to pretend to tell me off for talking like an Aussie!"

"I like your accent," said Gold with a smile, and she gave him a fond look.

"I used to stay with her when I was small," she went on. "She used to tell me stories, I remember that, fairy stories and things she made up off the top of her head about the creatures that lived under the hill near her house. There was a little bridge I had to cross over to get to school, and I was too scared to do it for weeks because of a story that she told me about a troll. I used to run across as fast as I could before it could grab me."

Gold chuckled. "I bet that didn't go down too well with your parents."

Belle pulled a face. "No. Dad told her to stop filling my head with nightmares and nonsense. But I enjoyed it, really. She was a bit of a hippy, to be honest. Very New Age, from what Dad said." She sighed. "I wish I could have known her properly."

He stroked her hair, enjoying her closeness. "How did she die?"

"Car accident," said Belle glumly. "I remember the funeral."

There was silence for a moment, and he continued to caress her. She sighed, seeming to relax a little more.

"Do you want to see what she left you?" he asked gently, and she frowned.

"I suppose…" She pushed away from him regretfully, standing up, and approached the leather satchel as though it contained live rattlesnakes. Opening it up, she removed the three items and placed them side by side on the desk, thinking. After a moment, she snatched at the envelope and ripped it open, as though dealing with it quickly would make it less upsetting. She smiled as she saw unfamiliar writing which she presumed was her grandmother's. She scanned the date at the top, and gasped.

"What is it?" asked Gold, concerned, and she swallowed hard.

"It's dated 8 June 1996," she explained. "That's only a couple of weeks before she died." She returned her attention to the letter again, surprised to see that it contained only a few lines:

_My dearest Belle_

_I don't have much time left, my love, but with what I've got, I send you this. It's dangerous to put things down in writing, so forgive me for not being clear with you. Your father has promised to talk things over with you, but I suspect he's just humouring me. You know how he disapproves of my 'stories'! _

_You may not remember me showing you how to read when you were very small. I used to teach you runes and hieroglyphs when you were three, and you picked them up so easily it almost frightened me. I believe my suspicions are correct, and if so, you will prove me right. You will find out for yourself just how special you are._

_The book is for you. I think you'll find it very enlightening. The key is something I believe you can use, but you will need others to help you, and I have no idea where they are. I send you these things, my dear, in the hope that I'm right about you, and that you remember what is necessary._

_All my love, my dear Belle._

_Grandma_

Belle's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Could she be any more cryptic?" she muttered, handing the letter to Gold for his perusal.

"A singular woman," he observed, and she huffed.

"Yes, I'd prefer it if she was a bit clearer about some things. What does she mean, she thinks she's right about me? What am I supposed to remember?"

"Perhaps the other things will give you some clues," he suggested neutrally. She sighed, and opened the blue velvet bag. There was a thud as something hit the desk, and she looked down to see a heavy silver circlet about six inches across, with three spirals curling out from the centre to touch the inner ring of the circle. Gold's eyes widened.

"It's a triskelion," said Belle, bemused.

"A what?" asked Gold, watching her avidly, and she shook her head, holding it out to him. His hand shook slightly as he took it, fingers closing over the cool metal.

"A triskelion. Celtic symbol of three. Three was very powerful in the old religions, and was carried forward into Christianity with the Holy Trinity."

"So, what did this mean for the pre-Christian people?" he asked, turning it over in his hands, feeling its weight.

"There are numerous meanings, depending on the context," she explained. "Often it's used to symbolise the Goddess, maiden, mother and crone. Or it could be past, present and future. The three worlds, the underworld, the earth and the heavens. Power, intellect and love. There are others."

"Interesting," he said, eyeing the object closely. "It's solid silver. And it looks as though something fitted in here." He showed her some little grooves in the ends of the spirals, and she shrugged, picking up the velvet bag.

"There's nothing more in here," she said. "Whatever it was, it's long gone." She was frowning to herself. "She said it was a _key_. What the hell do you think it opens?"

"Perhaps we'll find out," said Gold, gesturing to the book. Belle picked it up, undoing the metal clasp and leafing through the heavy vellum pages.

"It's old," she said excitedly. "But it's in English. It looks to be a sort of collection of old stories. Oh!" She clutched the book to her chest in her rapture. "It's going to tie in with what I've been looking at! Can you believe that? How's that for coincidence?"

"I prefer to think of it as fate," said Gold dryly, but she was already reading the first page. He left her to it and went to make some tea, his mind whirling. He really needed to get back to Storybrooke.

Belle buried herself in the book that afternoon as he was finishing off some of his own work, and seemed a little more cheerful as evening approached. She declined room service, apart from a bottle of wine and some baked cheesecake, but asked for pizza to be delivered instead. They sprawled on the bed, eating pizza and drinking wine and talking over what they had discovered that day, until Belle grew sleepy and they crawled into bed together.

Gold lay awake for some time, Belle snug against his chest. They had to be up early the next morning to make the journey back to Storybrooke in time for Belle to take her afternoon class, but he could handle a few late nights, and there were things he needed to do. As the time on the clock flicked to eleven-thirty, he gently removed Belle's arm from his chest, slipped from the bed, and dressed, pulling on his coat and shutting the door to the suite quietly behind him.

* * *

"So, my dear Ruby," drawled Hook, twirling a lock of her hair between his fingers and making her giggle. "Can I walk you home, or are you going to leave me pining here for the rest of the evening?"

Ruby gave him a level look. "You can walk me home," she agreed. "That's it. If you think you're getting lucky tonight, don't bother."

He pressed a hand to his heart in mock hurt, but his eyes twinkled at her above a wicked smile. "As if I would ever expect such a thing."

Ruby snorted. "Fine, then we both know where we stand. I'll get my coat."

She trotted behind the bar, grinning to herself. Hook had been extremely pleasant company, and was an amusing distraction while she waited for Archie to pull his head out of his ass and ask her out like she knew he wanted to. Archie was infuriating. The man was unfailingly polite, honest and decent, and although she knew that this was what she really needed in a long-term partner, it was difficult for someone like her, who didn't deal well with deferred gratification. Graduation couldn't come soon enough, as far as she was concerned. In the meantime, she supposed she was free to enjoy herself, but she felt that she had learnt her lesson as far as leaping into bed with people on the first date went. Hook was only in town for a couple of weeks, so it wasn't as though she'd have to see him around the place afterwards, like Viktor, but even so… She picked up her coat, pulling it on, and jerked her head at him as she passed, hearing him follow her out of Granny's. The air was bitterly cold, snow starting to fall again, and Ruby wound her scarf around her neck, pulling her gloves on as they walked. She linked her arm through his as they turned off the main street.

"You don't live with your grandmother," he observed, and she chuckled.

"No, I used to, but we fought all the time. We actually get on much better since I moved out. Two women with strong personalities in the same house – well, you either get on really well, or you clash. Granny and I always clashed."

"So, do you live alone now?" he asked.

"No, I share with my friend Belle. It's her house, I just rent from her."

"Ah, another young lady I haven't had the pleasure of meeting," he said pleasantly, and she rolled her eyes at him, making him laugh. "Will she be home?"

"Nah, she's…" Ruby cut off, suddenly realising it probably wasn't wise to tell him she'd be home alone. Handsome and charming didn't mean he wasn't capable of unpleasantness. She felt a little sad that she was suddenly suspicious of every man she met. "She's working tonight, she'll be home soon."

"I see." He looked at her with a slight smirk, and she had a feeling that he knew she was lying. She was suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable, and was glad when they turned into her street.

"Well, this is me," she announced brightly, stopping outside her front gate. Hook turned to face her, reaching up to gently push her hair out of her face, and bent to kiss her, his mouth soft, his soft stubble brushing her face. She leant into his kiss, pressing against him as he wrapped his arms around her, his tongue plundering her mouth. Eventually he drew back, and she settled back on her heels, a little breathless.

"Well," she said, unable to think of anything more intelligent. "I guess this is goodnight."

Hook pulled an awkward face, and looked at her apologetically. "I don't suppose I could use your bathroom, could I, love? Cold air and several beers don't always go together."

"Um – okay," said Ruby uncertainly, although she was far from comfortable with the idea. She led him up the path and unlocked the door, turning on the lights in the hallway. "Top of the stairs," she indicated, and waited by the door as he took the stairs two at a time, hoping he wouldn't be long.

Hook bypassed the bathroom completely, turning the door handle to the room next to it. He entered a bedroom, and flicking his eyes over the posters on the walls he guessed that it was Ruby's. He left quietly, and entered the next one. Working quickly, he crossed to the dresser and opened the top drawers, rooting through the underwear as he searched. There was a jewellery box on top of the dresser, but it contained nothing of any great value. Closing the lid, he frowned to himself, and scanned the room for other potential hiding places.

"What are you doing?" Ruby's voice from the doorway made him turn, and he gave her a winning smile. She was frowning at him suspiciously, and he guessed it was time to leave. He tried one more tactic.

"Well, I thought, since I'm upstairs, and now you are too…" He gestured to the bed, waggling his eyebrows at her. She folded her arms across her chest, her eyebrows drawing down, unamused.

"A: this is Belle's room, and B: in your dreams!" she said. "Now, are you gonna leave, or do I have to call Emma?"

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I apologise, Ruby, I guess I misread the signs."

"I guess you did," she said shortly, gesturing towards the stairs.

Sighing to himself, he descended, hearing her behind him, and as he stepped outside the door and turned to her, she slammed it in his face.

Hook chuckled to himself. The girl had spirit; it was a shame he'd had to use her. He had hoped to find what he was looking for by more gentle methods, but it was clearly not to be. The police officer was more his type, but she hadn't trusted him in the slightest. Besides, in his line of work, getting mixed up with a cop was a definite no-no. They were the type to do impromptu background checks on you. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he strode off down the road and thought about what his new orders might be.

* * *

Buccaneer Antiques stood in a quiet area of Boston near the docks, down an alley that some may have considered quaint by day, but which looked positively threatening by night. Its proprietor kept unusual hours; by day he was a pawnbroker and prided himself in being able to find unusual pieces for his customers. The legitimate side of his business was reasonably successful and enabled him to make a comfortable living without arousing the suspicions of either the Police or the IRS. However, it was by night that his business did its most lucrative work, which was currently funding his dream of buying a boat and sailing to the Caribbean to buy some land and start afresh. He was a fence for the local criminals, anything from watches and technology to antiques, art and even the odd stolen car, although those were admittedly harder to shift than a silver teapot. He automatically slashed twenty per cent off the prices he offered for anything with blood on it, but was not above buying such items. He had many contacts in the US and abroad, and ran a legitimate website through which those in the know could contact him with a set of pre-determined code words to request items that had been obtained in a less than legal fashion.

A short, bearded man with a developing paunch from his love of meatball sandwiches, he had just finished concluding a face-to-face deal with one of his regulars. He had obtained a stolen Rolex (which he had claimed to the thief was fake, and hence worth next to nothing) and a pair of diamond earrings (which he agreed _were_ genuine). The deal cost him one hundred and fifty dollars, and he was confident that it would make him five thousand. As for the unfortunate tourist they had been ripped from, perhaps that would teach the stupid bitch not to go out sporting thousands of dollars' worth of bling.

It was after midnight, and he decided that he had done enough for the evening. He scuttled behind the counter to cash up and prepared to lock the shop for the night. Having emptied the cash register and put the money in the safe, he crossed the shop, reaching up with stubby fingers to turn out the lights over the display cabinets, and jumped as he saw a dark figure outside the window, looking in at him.

"We're closed!" he shouted, but the figure didn't move. He automatically looked back over his shoulder to where the safe sat, ensuring that he had locked it, and when he turned back around the figure was gone.

Heart beating a little more quickly than normal, he hurriedly locked the door and shot the bolts across, reaching to the side for the switch that controlled the grills and lowering them over the door and windows. The mechanism whined and grated as the metal shutters reached towards the ground, and cut out as the entrance to the shop was protected. He heaved a small sigh of relief and flicked off the outside light, turning to go through the shop to leave by the back entrance. It was then that he heard a rhythmic sound _tap…step…tap…step_, coming towards him slowly. How the hell had they gotten through the back door? He was sure it had been locked.

"Who's there?" he asked querulously, his heart suddenly thumping. A shadow moved at the end of the room, between him and the only way out.

"Hello, Mr Smee," said a quiet, slightly accented voice. "Going somewhere?"

Smee's breath caught in his throat and he backed away.

"Gold?" he said breathlessly. "I – I didn't see you there. I was just closing, so maybe you can come back in the morning?" His voice went up at the end of the sentence, nervously turning it into a question, as though he knew it was unlikely that his visitor would leave.

Gold stepped closer towards him, into the light above the counter. The glow from the bulb cast long shadows in his face, his eyes bright points in the blackness of their sockets, making him look almost demonic. Smee swallowed hard, taking a step back and feeling his heel bump against the counter.

"I'd rather discuss this now," said Gold pleasantly. "These are your usual hours for dealing with the less savoury aspects of your business arrangements, are they not?"

Smee's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat. "Wh – what did you want to talk about?" he asked nervously, and Gold smiled nastily, looking at his fingernails.

"I thought this an opportune moment for you and I to hav01e a nice, long chat about the nature of deals," he said quietly. "What they mean, how they work, the _quid pro quo_ element. Not to mention how _very_ disappointed I get when people break them."

Smee snatched his red woollen hat from his head, twisting it round and round in his hands as he looked desperately from left to right as though a hidden door would suddenly appear. He decided to play dumb.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, with a nervous laugh. "You and I, we've been doing business for years. I've never ripped you off, Gold, I swear it! I wouldn't do that. If that last piece you bought from me wasn't what we thought, I'm sure we can come to some…"

"I'm not interested in listening to your pathetic attempts to distract me," said Gold menacingly, walking closer. "I'm interested in hearing your explanation regarding the whereabouts of the fire opal necklace we discussed."

Smee opened and closed his mouth, his jaw trembling. He moved to the side a little more, edging around one of his glass display cabinets, away from Gold. "But…y-you said you didn't want to buy it," he objected. "You only wanted me to tell you who redeemed it."

"Quite," agreed Gold. "Which you did, as promised. But you're forgetting the second part of our deal, are you not? What else did I ask of you?" His tone was soft, conversational, hiding the building rage that was sweeping through his body. Smee swallowed, licking his lips.

"You – you asked me not to tell anyone else," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Gold cupped his ear.

"You asked me not to tell anyone else," said Smee, more loudly, and heard a sigh from Gold.

"Indeed. As I recall you were paid rather handsomely for agreeing to the terms of our deal, do you recall that?"

"I – I'm sorry, I figured…"

"You figured? You figured _what_, exactly?" spat Gold, gesturing with splayed fingers. "You figured you would take my money and shoot your mouth off to anyone who asked? You thought to make a fool of me?"

"No!" protested Smee hastily, not liking the way this conversation was going at all. "I just – I mean – they threatened me! They wanted to know who had it and they asked me for my records! They knew I kept records of the people I deal with during the day, and…"

"And you couldn't have come up with some miserable excuse such as having lost those particular records, or burnt them yourself, or – I don't know – the dog ate them?" Gold's voice was bitingly sarcastic. Smee chanced a look at the other man, quailing as he saw the flash of dark fire in his eyes. He shifted round the corner of the counter in a bid to make his way towards the far door and the rear exit, his hand pressed against the top to ease his way.

"You don't understand," he gabbled, inventing wildly, hoping to talk his way out of this. "They said they'd burn the shop. I was frightened, I…"

Gold moved quicker than he thought possible, hefting his cane and bringing the handle down sharply on Smee's splayed hand. There was a crunching of bone and a smashing of glass and Smee shrieked, clutching his ruined hand to his chest and falling backwards in his pain and terror. Gold leant forward, pressing the handle of the cane against the other man's throat and causing him to choke and struggle. Glass tinkled to the floor around them. Smee's eyes began to bulge.

"Who were these men?" demanded Gold, letting up the pressure a little, and Smee gulped, his voice rasping, fingers of his one good hand scrabbling ineffectually at the handle of the cane.

"I don't know," he wheezed. "I never saw them before. Both dark-haired, one in his thirties, one younger. Leather jackets. Black jeans. I guess the ladies would like them…"

"And who were they working for?"

"I don't know." He was almost weeping. "They didn't say. One of them called the other one Keith – I don't know!"

Gold straightened up a little, allowing Smee to roll onto his side, choking and gasping. He didn't recognise the descriptions, although admittedly it wasn't much to go on. He curled his lip as he looked at the man on the floor at his feet.

"Then I'll have my money back, if you please," he said quietly. "Not all of it. You can keep half for fulfilling part of the deal. I like to consider myself a reasonable man." He seemed to ponder something for a moment, and shrugged. "Actually, make that forty per cent, for the trouble and inconvenience you've caused me. That makes six thousand that you owe me."

"I don't have it," wheezed Smee, which was a downright lie. He cried out as Gold brought the cane down on his collarbone, snapping it and rendering his right arm useless.

"I don't believe I heard you, Mr Smee!" growled Gold, hefting the cane again.

"Please!" Smee begged, shrieking as another blow landed on his ribs. "You can't do this!"

"We. Had. A. Deal!" stormed Gold, punctuating his words with lashes of his cane. "A deal! No one breaks deals with me!" He used the cane to steady himself and booted the man in the ribs with his good foot, hearing a satisfying crack. He lashed out with the cane again, smashing the glass in the display cabinets to the side of them, then turned back to the cowering pawnbroker.

"No!" Smee wept. "I can get you the money! Tomorrow! Please! It wasn't my fault!"

"Not your fault!" demanded Gold, fuming, his eyes boring into the man. "You tell a couple of strangers something that I ask you specifically to keep to yourself and you're trying to tell me it wasn't your fault! How exactly does that work?"

"I have information!" gabbled Smee desperately. "That's worth something, right Gold? Information you'll want, I swear it!"

"I highly doubt that," said Gold pleasantly, lifting the cane once more.

Smee held up placating hands, one of them badly broken and already beginning to swell. "Please! Just listen! The necklace, I happen to know the guy who paid for it is dead. Robbery gone wrong, or something! I bet the thing will find its way to me before long, and when it does I'll be only too happy to let it go for a very reasonable…" He shrieked again as the handle of the cane landed heavily on his knee, the pain almost enough to make him vomit. "I mean – I'll give it to you! It's yours!"

"You seek to give me something that doesn't belong to you," said Gold dangerously. "How do you know it was taken by his killers?"

"I – I…" Smee was silent for a moment, save for his pained groans. "Okay, okay, I don't. But I know where it might be, if he didn't have it. The inventor's daughter – she might have it!"

Gold's heart plummeted. "What?" he asked softly, and Smee seemed to take heart from his quiet tone.

"The inventor. The man who owned the necklace. French. He came in here a few times, pawned some other things. He mentioned his daughter. If you like, I can make some enquiries, and…"

Gold slammed the cane onto his knee once more, and Smee screamed, crying and pleading as he tried to curl himself into a tight ball. Gold regarded him for a moment with disgust, then straightened up, flicking his hair out of his eyes and steadying his breathing. It was rare that he lost his temper, and this sorry excuse for pond life wasn't worth beating to death. It would create an awful lot of tedious work, and Dover was in Storybrooke….

"Let me make your situation absolutely clear," he said softly. "I am going to ask you, yet again, to keep something to yourself. You may be surprised by this, given your previous record in secret-keeping, but let me give you a little something to motivate you. Due to the fact that an honourable deal in which you were handsomely rewarded for your silence appears to lack the requisite incentive for you, my proposal is this." He bent closer to the cowering pawnbroker, his voice low and dangerous. "If you breathe one word of the inventor's daughter, or of our dealings, to anyone, I will hunt you down, I will find you, and I will cut off a piece of your body for _every single word_ that left your traitorous mouth. And, believe me, Mr Smee, when I tell you I will take my sweet time about it, do you understand me?"

Smee nodded vigorously, still weeping. Gold folded his hands around his cane and stared down at him for a minute or so, allowing his words to fully sink in.

"Then our business is concluded for this evening," he said calmly. "Please don't trouble yourself to get up, Mr Smee. I'll see myself out."

* * *

**A/N: Well, Gold couldn't remain all sweet and cuddly for long, could he? Besides, I love him when he's bad...**

**I decided to use Hook's actual name from Peter Pan for this fic, as I'd already had Gold's wife run off with the lovely Mr Jones twenty years ago, so he'd be about Gold's age now. Therefore, this Hook is not the bloke that Gold's wife left him for.**

**Coming up: Belle spends the night at Gold's house, and has a strange experience…**


	19. A Flicker of Light

**A/N: If I owned Once Upon a Time, I would currently be in the back room of the pawn shop, letting Mr Gold do unspeakable things to me (hmm, that gives me an idea…). So no, it ain't mine. **

**Thanks to all who followed and favourited. I love seeing all the different theories you guys come up with. Some of you have guessed bits of it, and this chapter should give you some hints.**

**Ellie: hope your flight was good – happy to help you pass the time!**

**RipperBlackstaff: one update as promised!**

**Claire – thanks so much! ! didn't make you wait too long!**

**The Auburn Girl, RoxyMoron, narciscia, JustBFree, Twyla Mercedes, Wondermorena, michellelramsey1, ecinspired, spacecats, cheesyteal'c, crazykat77, emmaleewhittaker, morgananne16, CharlotteAshmore, jewel415, The Prince's Phoenix, deweymay, RaFire, paulawer, blkroses, Erik'sTrueAngel, Rosina Marie, : thank you for all your comments, here is the next chapter.**

* * *

Gold walked through the back streets of Boston for another hour, calming himself. He checked up on a couple of his business interests before making his way back to the hotel, noting that it was approaching two in the morning. Opening the door to their room, he slipped inside as quietly as he could, and took off his coat and gloves, dropping them over the back of the couch. Spying the triskelion lying on the desk, he ran a delicate finger around its spirals, smiling to himself, then picked up the heavy book that Belle's grandmother had left for her, frowning as he looked it over. He itched to find out what it contained.

"Marcus?" Belle's sleepy voice made him start, and he put down the book, turning to see her padding towards him from the bedroom, rubbing her eyes and looking adorably dishevelled. "It's late, where have you been?"

He smiled at her, his alibi swinging in a paper bag from his left hand. "I had a sudden desire for sushi."

She chuckled. "You found an all-night sushi bar?" she said disbelievingly, and he shrugged.

"No, but I own the restaurant. I persuaded the manager to let me raid the fridge. Hungry?"

"Not really," she said, but looked interested as he started taking out the little plastic boxes of sushi and sashimi. "Perhaps I could manage some. Shall I make tea?"

"That would be lovely."

They ate the sushi curled on the couch, her legs drawn up beside her in the silk nightdress and Gold in his shirtsleeves.

"I'm gonna be a zombie in class tomorrow," she said reluctantly, looking at the clock. He smirked.

"Yes, and remember that we have an appointment tomorrow evening," he added. She perked up a little.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked playfully, and his mouth curled into a smile.

"I thought I'd return the favour," he said quietly. "Dinner. My house. Pack your toothbrush."

Her belly fluttered pleasantly as she considered the possibilities of sleeping in his bed. Of _not_ sleeping in his bed, she corrected herself. "That sounds perfect," she agreed, lifting her head to kiss him.

* * *

They reached Storybrooke around midday, and Gold took her to Granny's for lunch before she had to get to her two o'clock class. Ruby gave Belle a hug as she entered, and showed them to a table in the corner, promising that their order of burgers and coffees would be right up. Belle slumped in her chair with a sigh, running her hands over her face.

"God, I need caffeine," she grumbled, and Gold smirked, lounging across from her.

"I expect you to be able to deliver your usual standard of work tonight, as promised," he said teasingly, and she pulled a face.

"Do you _have_ to be the taskmaster every time?" she complained. "Don't I get special dispensation for you getting your rocks off?"

"What do you think?" he asked pleasantly, eyes glinting at her, and she folded her arms.

"I think you're a bastard," she muttered, glowering at him. He laughed.

"As I recall, the lack of sleep wasn't solely down to me," he pointed out, and she stuck out her tongue.

"Two coffees," announced Ruby. "Extra caffeine-y. You both look like you could use a lift. Holiday not that relaxing, huh?"

"His fault," said Belle grumpily, cradling her cup in her hands. "Woke me up at two a.m. for sushi."

Ruby smirked. "If that's a euphemism, I'm not familiar with it," she said cheekily, and Belle gave her a look.

"And he won't cut me a break on work for tonight," she added. Gold raised an eyebrow.

"I might be willing to cut your workload by half," he allowed, and Belle looked interested. "For a price."

She scowled. "Knew it. Fine, what do you want?"

"Ask me nicely. What's the magic word?" he asked, grinning at her as he raised his cup to his lips. Belle lifted an eyebrow, feeling suddenly mischievous, her eyes very wide.

"Blowjob?" she asked innocently, causing Gold to spit his coffee across the room and Ruby to burst into cackling laughter. He recovered quickly, flicking beads of black liquid from his suit as he frowned at their giggles.

"Very well," he said, in a businesslike way. "I would have gone with a simple 'please', but if that's the price you choose to pay…" He smirked at her, looking suddenly wicked.

"And I get to choose when and where," added Belle. Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Agreed," he said, as though they were dealing in dollars and cents rather than sexual favours. Belle grinned to herself, determined to wait for the opportune moment in order to use this one deal to surprise him.

* * *

An hour later, Gold drove his Cadillac into the university car park, parking at the opposite end to where he had dropped Belle off, and walked towards the north stairwell. The elevator was out of order, and by the time he reached the top floor his leg was killing him. He turned into the dimly-lit corridor, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he always did, and made his way slowly to Doc's office. The little professor was almost invisible behind a pile of books, marking student papers with a thick red pen, but he smiled briefly and motioned Gold to the only other chair in the room.

"Just give me a second," he said absently, looking down at the paper he was reading. Gold sat down patiently, smiling slightly as he heard Doc let out a snort, and a muffled "Idiot!" followed by the sound of the pen crossing something through. Duchess, the white cat, opened one green eye from her perch on top of a pile of old journals, and gave him a sleepy look before yawning and putting her tail over her nose. He scratched her ears gently, causing a low rumbling purr. Doc finally sat back with a sigh.

"Sometimes I despair of freshmen," he said conversationally. "You give them all the tools they need to make a success of things, and they still insist on doing all their 'research' on Wikipedia." He set his pen down and looked at Gold over the top of his glasses. "What can I do for you, Marcus?"

"The triskelion is here," was all Gold said. Doc's eyes widened.

"Really? Remarkable. How did you find it?"

"I didn't." Gold twirled his cane between his hands. "Belle's grandmother left it to her in a safety deposit box, along with a book of what Belle refers to as 'old stories'."

Doc fixed him with a stare. "Then it's fate. You know what this means. It's time."

"No." Gold's voice was stern, implacable. He stood up, beginning to pace back and forth across the small room. "Give me a few weeks. I can make things easier for her."

Doc frowned at him. "How long have you spent trying to pull all of these threads together?" he demanded. "You know the score as well as I do."

"I know what I need to do," said Gold icily. "I'm just trying to spare her some pain."

"You're letting your emotions cloud your judgement," said Doc severely. "Again."

"I won't do to her what you did to me!" snapped Gold, eyes flashing. Doc sighed, tapping his pen on the papers in front of him.

"A few weeks won't make any discernable difference," he said firmly. "And she's a strong young woman. I have every faith she'll cope far better than you did."

Gold scowled at him. "Don't remind me."

"It seems I must," said Doc, thick white brows hooding his bright eyes. "You know that there'll be danger, now that the triskelion has emerged. What about the stone?"

Gold hesitated. "It's in my safe," he said reluctantly, and the older man glared at him.

"How long have you had it?" he demanded, and Gold sighed.

"Her father gave it to her on her birthday last month," he admitted, and Doc sighed.

"Marcus, you're playing a very dangerous game," he said. "Do you really want her to face the other players with no defences?"

"I can keep her safe," snapped Gold.

"For now," acknowledged Doc. "But you're exposing her to danger in the long run." He leant forward, his eyes boring into Gold. "Use the stone. If you won't follow my advice, at least do that. It's for the best."

Gold sighed, leaning heavily on his cane, his expression weary. "She'll hate me," he said quietly, and Doc chuckled.

"For a while, perhaps," he agreed. "You should be used to that by now."

* * *

Belle was very tired when she reached home that evening, but a shower revived her, and once she had dried her hair and put on some makeup, she felt a little better. She swept her hair back from her face, pinning it up with small diamante clips so that her curls cascaded down her back, and drew on her dark green dress, with lace-top hold-up stockings and black heels. Finally, she added perfume and gold earrings. She heard the doorbell ring at that moment, and hurriedly grabbed her overnight bag and made her way downstairs just as Ruby was letting Gold into the house.

"Hey," she said, a little breathlessly, dropping her bag.

Gold looked at her with a tiny smile on his face, his eyes glinting with desire and making her breath hitch.

"Well, look at you," he said quietly. "Don't you look – edible?"

She blushed, looking at the floor, and shifted her feet a little. "Are you ready to go?"

"Almost." He reached into his pocket and smiled at her, lifting his hand and twirling his finger, indicating that she should turn around. She did so, puzzled, and felt cold metal against the skin of her throat. Looking down, she saw the necklace her father had given her, and smiled. It would go perfectly with the dress. Gold's fingers fastened the clasp delicately, making her shiver pleasantly as he brushed the back of her neck. She turned to the mirror to look at her reflection, and grinned. The fire opal gleamed at the base of her throat like a burning coal, and she loved how it looked against her pale skin with the dark green of the dress below it.

"Perfect," he whispered, his hands on her shoulders. "Ready?"

"More than ready." She turned to him, still smiling, and stretched up to kiss his nose, making him chuckle. He gestured to the bag beside her.

"Is this coming with us?"

She nodded, excited by the prospect of staying at his house, and shrugged on her coat, winding a scarf around her neck; the temperature outside was already below freezing and falling rapidly. She picked up the bag, taking his offered arm.

"Have fun, kids!" called Ruby cheerfully. "Don't do anything I wouldn't!"

"Well, that gives us plenty of options, doesn't it?" remarked Gold dryly, and she grinned at him.

"Yeah, that was the idea," she said. "Just bring her back in one piece for girls' night, okay?"

* * *

He let them into the house and began switching on lights in the hallway, illuminating the way to the stairs, then helped her off with her coat.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked quietly, and she hesitated.

"Okay," she agreed, and put her bag down as he went through to the kitchen. She heard him taking glasses from a cupboard and walked slowly along the hallway, casting her eyes from left to right as she did so. The last time she had been in this house, she had yelled at him, sworn at him, and stormed out. Apparently a lot could happen in the space of a month. She certainly hadn't anticipated that she would be there looking forward to spending the night in his bed. She followed him through to the kitchen, admiring the spotlessly clean work surfaces. He was clearly cooking something, as the room was filled with a pleasant aroma, but the kitchen itself was extremely tidy. Belle thought about the mess she made when she cooked, and grinned to herself.

Gold was pouring white wine into glasses, and handed her one as she slid onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. He sat down across from her, and clinked his glass against hers, smiling.

"What are we having?" she asked, sipping her wine, and he shrugged.

"Seared scallops, followed by fillet steak and dauphinois potatoes," he said. "I didn't make dessert, I cheated."

Belle giggled. "That's okay, this is the first time a guy has ever cooked a romantic dinner for me, so you could feed me beans on toast and I'd still be impressed."

"If this doesn't go to plan, I have beans in the cupboard," he said gravely, and she laughed.

The food was delicious, the scallops sweet and juicy, the steak meltingly tender and eaten with a glass of red wine. Gold suggested holding off on dessert for a while, to which Belle readily agreed, and he poured them each another glass of wine after they had cleared away the dishes, Belle insisting on drying up as he washed.

"So," he said, as they settled back down with their glasses. "What do you have for me today, Miss French? I believe we agreed on half the usual amount, for the price you stated." He waggled amused eyebrows at her, and she gave him a stern look.

"The price stands," she said loftily. "Doesn't mean it'll be tonight. I decide when and where, remember? You have no say in the matter."

"But of course." He smiled at her tone. "In that case, let me have what you're prepared to give me."

She bit her lip in amusement at his attempt to observe the nature of the deal they had made all those months ago, and reached for her laptop.

"I started going through that last pile of papers you gave me," she began. "It has more of the monks' writings in it, although they're copies of the originals, so I don't know how accurate they are. There are also documents relating to one of the noble families in the area."

"Go on," he prompted, and she opened up one of the translations she had been working on.

"Well, this is interesting, because it's not just about the everyday life of the monastery, but about local politics, too," she said. "There was a castle at Langfell, near Avonleigh, which the earl and his family, the Beauchamps, lived in. They came over with the Norman invasion in 1066, and the earl, Richard, was a direct descendant." She took a sip of wine to wet her throat. "Lady Isabelle Beauchamp was the earl's daughter. She was a young woman when the writings were set down, late teens or early twenties, I would say."

His mouth twitched ever so slightly, and he sat forward a little. "What about her?"

"Her father appears to have been trying to get her married off, and there are stories about suitors that are proposed and rejected – I can't tell if it's her or her father that's turning them down."

"It would be highly unusual for a young woman of noble birth to have any say in her choice of mate," he said, and she nodded, agreeing with him.

"Well, apparently she did a lot of work among the poor in the area, which I guess was fairly common for the nobility."

"Not as common as you might hope," he remarked, and she shrugged.

"Anyway, when the plague started to arrive in the outlying villages, there are reports of strange things happening. People getting sick, then getting better. Some outlying farms where the sickness didn't reach at all. Brother Philip writes of miracles, attributing them to the prayers of the monks and the generosity of the earl in donating to the monastery."

Gold smiled wryly. "Typical. So what then?"

Belle clicked onto the next page, a faraway look in her eyes. "Lady Isabelle continues to visit the sick with her retainers, but the tone of the monks' accounts starts to change," she continued. "Brother Philip writes of some of the monks suspecting her of witchcraft and heresy, although he states that he believes she's a good woman. The physician seems particularly set against her. It seems to tie in with the Pope's delegation arriving." She bit her lip. "There are reports of babies being born deformed, cows going dry, crops failing."

"All classic indications of witchcraft for medieval England," he nodded. "Though obviously with more down-to-earth explanations."

Belle nodded her head in agreement, taking a sip of her wine. "The townsfolk seem eventually to have turned against her. She was tried for witchcraft, found guilty and executed."

Gold got to his feet, walking slowly across the room to stare out of the window into the dark night, and she sighed despondently. "It's such a shame, she really seemed to be helping people. It doesn't say what she did, but it was probably something we take for granted, like cleanliness, or isolating the sick, or something like that. But because she was a woman, no one would listen and they accused her of being a witch."

"A remarkable woman," said Gold softly, with his back to her. She nodded, and opened her mouth to respond, but he continued, almost as though she wasn't there. "A beautiful combination of spirit, intelligence and compassion. Born out of her time in so many ways. Betrayed by her own blood. All she wanted was to help the people and hold back the darkness, and her own father handed her to the clerics to torture and destroy." His voice came out in an icy hiss, and she frowned, looking back at the computer screen.

"I haven't read that part," she said, confused. "Are you saying it was the earl himself that accused her? How do you know that?"

He stiffened slightly as she watched him, and waved a dismissive hand. "There never seems to be much affection in these old noble families. Loveless marriages and daughters only of any use to secure alliances. Everyone wanted to keep on the right side of the Church." His smile was bitter. "I guess a daughter didn't weigh too heavily in the balance when compared to eternal damnation."

Belle sniffed. "Men are jerks," she remarked. "I'm so glad we live in this century."

"I have some books on the early noble families of England," he added. "I believe the family is mentioned. I can let you borrow them, if you like."

Belle beamed at him.

* * *

When their discussion was finished, and Belle had closed up the laptop, Gold poured them each a brandy and gestured to her that she should leave the kitchen. She stepped into the lounge, her eyes drawn once again to the bookshelves, although the room was in darkness and she was unable to see their contents.

"Would you care to join me upstairs?" he asked from behind her, making her jump. She nodded, following him with her bag in hand and feeling pleasantly light-headed.

"I'd like to see your book collection at some point," she ventured, and could _feel_ him smile, even though she was staring at his back.

"It is at your disposal," was all he said. He led her up to the top of the stairs, and motioned with his cane to the dark wooden door to his right. "If you could, please."

Belle opened the door, walking into a large bedroom with a bay window, a large, antique bed with an ornately carved headboard, dresser and wardrobe. There was a door off to the side which Belle suspected led to a bathroom. She put her bag down beneath the dresser and turned to him with a smile.

"It's lovely," she said. "What a beautiful bed. I don't think I could bring myself to leave it."

He smiled briefly. "That could be arranged."

Shooting him a fond look, she perched on the edge of the bed and held out her hand for the drink. He was watching her intently, as though he was trying to preserve the image of her sitting on his bed, and seemed to give himself a shake as she raised an eyebrow at him. He closed the door behind him and sat beside her, handing the brandy to her, and they sipped in silence for a while.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently. "You seem – far away."

He dropped his hand to her knee for a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm fine, it's just – no one's been in this room but me. It's strange to see you sitting here," he said, then his lips twitched in the tiny smile he sometimes gave her. "But also right."

She smiled. "I'm glad you think so," she whispered, and leant towards him. He took their glasses, placing them on the bedside table, and put his hand to her cheek, pressing his lips to hers. His kiss was gentle, hesitant, as though it was their first, and she shifted closer to him, pushing her fingers through his hair in the way she knew he liked, deepening the kiss. Her hands dropped to his tie, unfastening it, and he chuckled, helping her by pulling off the tie and unfastening his cufflinks. He broke free from her kiss momentarily, placing his cufflinks on the dresser. Belle kicked off her shoes, reaching for him as he kissed her again, his hand sliding over her thigh and pulling her against him.

"Stand up, my darling," he whispered, and Belle complied, drawing him with her. He reached for the zipper of her dress, pulling it down so that the dress fell from her shoulders and pooled around her ankles, and he gasped as she was revealed to him in her underwear and stockings.

"So beautiful," he breathed. "God, Belle, you are so beautiful." He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing around her throat and making her moan and press herself against him. He drew back a little, gazing down at her with his dark eyes, heavy-lidded with lust. Belle reached behind her to unfasten the necklace, and he hesitated.

"No," he said softly, staying her hands. "Leave it on."

She looked up at him, a little confused, but nodded, dropping her hands to her sides. He kissed her again, unhooking her bra and letting it fall, and then motioned to the bed.

"Get on the bed," he said quietly, and she clambered up on hands and knees, rolling onto her back to watch him as he unbuttoned his shirt and took off the rest of his clothes, climbing up beside her and taking her in his arms in nothing but her panties, stockings and the necklace. He stroked his hands down her body as they kissed, his lips prising hers apart, his tongue sliding in and gently caressing hers. She let out a soft moan, arching her body into his, her hands tracing lines down between his shoulder blades. She could feel him, hard against her thigh, and wanted him desperately. He slid his hand between her legs, fingers teasing her through her underwear, and smiled as he felt her wetness soaking through. Belle moaned into his mouth, his tongue probing her once more, running around the soft inner walls of her lips before he pulled back. She pushed against his hand, aching for him.

"What do you want, my beauty?" he asked roughly, his accent thick.

"Touch me," she gasped, and he smiled, one finger slipping inside her panties and gently stroking her, running once, twice over her clit before pulling out, making her gasp in frustration.

"Again!" she whispered, and he placed his hand flat on her abdomen, sliding it down until the first two fingers could slip beneath her underwear, pushing down between her lips and slowly stroking. Belle moaned, moving against his touch, and hissed with vexation as he pulled away. She glared at him with heat in her eyes.

"Gold, if you do that one more time, so help me…"

"So impatient," he purred, nipping along her jawline to her ear. "I have something in mind, dearest, that's all." He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, making her bite her lip, and kissed the side of her ear. "Tell me what you want," he whispered.

"I want you to finish what you started, you bastard!" she spat, and he chuckled, pushing her panties and stockings down her legs and off her feet. She pushed herself up on her elbows, still glaring at him as he knelt between her thighs.

"Lie back," he commanded. "Close your eyes."

Trembling with need, Belle lay back, feeling him settle himself, his hair tickling her thighs as he placed gentle kisses against her smooth skin. She gasped in anticipation as she realised what he intended. Her heart was thumping in her chest, her belly tightening painfully as he kissed his way up her legs, drawing closer to the point where she needed him most, where she was hot and throbbing and swollen with desire for him. She gasped as she felt his first kiss on her outer lips, once each side. There was a pause, then he dipped his head slightly and slipped the tip of his tongue between them, gently caressing her. Belle let out a squeak of surprise and pleasure, making him smile as he tasted her. She tasted incredible, of honey and salt and her own musk, and he groaned with want as his tongue slipped into her soft folds, causing her to cry out. The tip of his tongue circled her clit, never quite touching it, making her pant with need and grab handfuls of the bedclothes. He gripped her more tightly, pulling her thighs close around his head, his stubble scratching her delicate skin and causing the most delicious friction Belle had ever felt. She was close, she could feel it, as he pushed his tongue up inside her with a rumble of pleasure. She reached for his head, fingers fisting in his hair and pulling as he began licking her in a slow rhythm, gradually increasing the pace, his chin scraping against her. Belle moved with him, her body tensing, her breath heaving as she reached her peak. He sucked her clit in between his lips as he pushed a long finger inside her, and her upper body rose up off the bed as she came with a loud, desperate cry, her hips bucking, her thighs clamping against his head. He withdrew his finger and replaced it with his tongue, gently swirling around her soft flesh and making her jerk against him. Belle gasped and collapsed back on the bed, a rush of sweet fluid bathing his tongue as he tasted her bliss. She lay there as he kissed her, breathing hard, her body twitching intermittently.

Smirking to himself, he pushed himself up on his elbows and crawled up the bed towards her, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply as she clung to him.

"That was incredible," she whispered, and he grinned against her neck.

"My pleasure, sweetheart."

She slumped against his chest, suddenly drowsy. "We need to do you."

"Later," he soothed. "Finish your drink."

She sat up, reaching for the brandy glasses, and he pulled down the blankets, allowing them to slip beneath and cover themselves. Belle sat back with a sigh, her head resting on his shoulder as they sipped their drinks.

"I like your bed," she said, and he smiled down at her.

"As do I. It's amazing how much more interesting it is with you in it."

She snuggled a little closer. "You know it's girls' night tomorrow?"

"I do," he confirmed. "And as I will be denied the pleasure of your company, I'd like to propose something for Saturday."

She looked interested. "Oh? What?"

"Pack something we can eat cold," he said. "And bring an overnight bag." He smiled at her excited expression.

"Am I coming here?" she asked coyly, and he stroked her cheek delicately.

"All will be revealed."

She giggled, pressing herself more closely against him. "Can we have that dessert now?"

Gold slipped out of bed, drawing on a thick robe of navy blue damask silk, and she waited for his return, sipping her brandy. He held up one bowl with two spoons as he entered, and Belle laughed as she saw a portion of the dessert they had shared at the Christmas party.

"I'm informed that Marco considered your 'better than sex' name," he said with a grin, climbing back into bed. "But decided to go with 'cherry-almond bliss'."

Belle huffed. "Mine's better," she grumbled.

"But inaccurate," he pointed out, licking the spoon. "Delicious though this is."

She chuckled, and they ate in silence for a while, Belle making tiny noises of pleasure as she licked chocolate and cherries from her spoon. She spent a pleasant few minutes smearing the dessert on his nipples and licking it off, which he found extremely enjoyable but rather sticky. Instead, he decided to revisit their Christmas party escapades by scooping up the dessert on his fingers and allowing her to suck them. Her small tongue licked the sweetness from him, drawing his fingers into her mouth one by one and sucking, making him harden against her. His kiss was sweet, his tongue slipping past his finger into her mouth and stroking against hers as he withdrew. The dessert was moved to the bedside cabinet as he took her in his arms, licking chocolate from around her lips before parting them with his tongue and pulling her close.

"My Belle," he whispered, kissing down her neck. He pressed a kiss to the fire opal lying against her throat, and Belle felt a sudden flash of – _something_. It was gone before she could name it, and she paid it no mind, pushing her fingers through his hair and moaning as he bit down on her neck, his hands slipping between her thighs and pulling them apart so he could press himself against her heat. She ground against him, wanting him inside her, and felt him smile against her throat, raising his head to gaze down at her as he lifted himself up on his elbows. His eyes were very dark, almost black, with tiny points of gold gleaming at her, and he cupped her cheek tenderly.

"Please," she whispered, and he smiled, lowering his mouth to hers. She lifted her knees so that he was pressed against her, reaching down to guide him into her, and moaned with bliss as he filled her. Gold began to move, his breathing heavy as he gazed down at her, as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"So _good!_" she murmured, making him smile wickedly and kiss her neck once more. He laced his fingers through hers, pushing her arms above her head as they kissed, as they ground against one another. His hands slid down her arms, down her sides, sliding back up to cup her breasts so that he could kiss her hardened nipples, the gold ring on his right hand scraping over the taut pink peak of her left breast and making her squirm. He levered himself up on his elbows, gazing down at her, and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, the blue stone of the ring cool against her skin. He slowly stroked it down her neck and across her necklace, and as the stone brushed hers she felt something burst inside her head, almost like _déjà vu_. She gasped, her brow crinkling and he cupped her face again.

"Belle?" he whispered, and she shook her head, pulling his mouth to hers, gripping him tightly with her thighs. His movements became harder, faster, deeper, and she raked his back with her nails as she came, sinking her teeth into his chest in what seemed to be the only way to stop her head from exploding. His arms went around her as her head fell back, pulling her close against him, so that every bit of her was touching him as he moved. His head was pushed into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, and he groaned his pleasure as he came inside her in thick, hot spurts. Belle moaned wordlessly, coming down from her own high, her flesh tender but still wanting more of him, and she held him tight as his movements slowed and stopped, his breathing heavy against her ear. Eventually he pushed up onto his elbows, looking down at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Oh, my Belle," he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers.

_I love you_, she thought, but didn't say it. He kissed her deeply, his tongue caressing hers as he stroked her face with gentle fingers, before drawing back, his lips pulling at hers as the kiss broke.

"That was amazing," she murmured, and he smiled, kissing her nose.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, and she nodded sleepily.

"Mm. Had a weird flash of _déjà vu_ or something." She yawned, pressing her fist to her mouth, and he gently kissed her jaw.

"What did you see?" he asked softly, and felt her shrug.

"Don't know. It's like a dream you can't quite remember." She rubbed her head against his affectionately. "Speaking of dreams, I think I need to sleep." He moved off her, and she slipped out of bed, taking her bag with her to clean up in the bathroom. He heard her brushing her teeth, and lay with his hands behind his head, watching as she came through the door in the dark green silk nightgown he had bought her.

"What do you think?" she asked shyly, looking down at herself.

"You look beautiful," he said honestly. "And I want you to leave the necklace on. It suits you."

Belle giggled. "Fine, but if my hair's all tangled up in it tomorrow, you can brush it out."

"It would be my pleasure." He patted the bed next to him. "Now come here."

She slipped under the covers beside him, sighing as he spooned up against her.

"Marcus?" she said sleepily.

"Mm?"

"What happened to your leg?"

He hesitated, his grip tightening slightly as he breathed in her scent. "It was broken."

"It looks as though your foot was crushed."

"Yes." Curls of her fragrant hair brushed his face, her body was warm and soft in his arms. He never wanted her to leave.

"How did it happen?"

He kissed the back of her neck. "It's a long story, sweetheart, but one I'll tell you some other time."

She mumbled something, wriggling into a more comfortable position, and he heard her breathing grow steady as she drifted off.

* * *

**A/N: well, we couldn't have her staying at his house without plenty of smut!**

**Coming up: Gold takes Belle to the cabin, and Belle freaks out a little.**


	20. The Lives Of Others

**A/N: Thanks to all who followed and favourited. I'm so happy you're sailing this ship with me.**

**The Auburn Girl: this chapter should give you some more answers.**

**ThisIsAGuest: trust me, I really am writing as fast as I can! Thanks for the support x**

**Guest: one chapter coming up!**

**Claire: nice to see what you're thinking – all will be revealed…**

**Wondermorena, cheesyteal'c, RoxyMoron, ShipperQueen93, CharlotteAshmore, Twyla Mercedes, morgananne16, JustBFree, michellelramsey1, estranged-writer, emmaleewhittaker, paulawer, , ecinspired, deweymay, narciscia, jewel415, spacecats, karolprado, orthankg1, Erik'sTrueAngel (thanks for the pep talk): you're all amazing, here's the next instalment.**

* * *

_Elizabeth Willoughby gazed at herself in the looking glass, pleased with what she saw. Her long chestnut tresses were elaborately piled on her head, the ringlets cascading down her back like curls of polished mahogany. She smoothed the skirt of her gown, the golden-yellow silk clinging to her upper arms, leaving her milky shoulders bare. She smiled, full lips curving upwards, her blue eyes shining. Her maid, a pretty, sturdily-built girl in a grey linen dress, apron and mobcap, brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the dress and stepped aside._

_"You've done wonders with me, Sarah," said Elizabeth warmly. "The necklace, if you please."_

_Sarah immediately opened the box of pale green velvet, and gasped._

_"Oh, miss! It's so pretty!"_

_"Father had the stone re-set in this design," said Elizabeth, smiling at Sarah's reaction. "It used to be in a ring, you know, but he wouldn't let me wear it. Said it was too vulgar. Old-fashioned. I suppose the ring _was_ a few hundred years old, but it still seems a shame to change it for the sake of fashion."_

_Sarah looped the necklace around her neck, the tiny golden leaves sparkling around the gleaming red of the fire opal._

_"You look beautiful, miss," she said, with a proud smile, and Elizabeth sighed._

_"I had much rather spend the evening in the library than attend this ball," she said regretfully. "But Mama insists that it matters what others think, so it appears I must suffer!" She shared a grin with Sarah._

_"Will there be many gentlemen there, miss?" asked the maid, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes._

_"Undoubtedly," she said dryly. "And I shall have to dance with many of them, or risk Papa's displeasure. As long as that ignorant boor of a Duke doesn't try to grab me, I think I can bear it." She touched the necklace, running her fingertip over the stone, her lips parting slightly as she felt a slight tingle run through her._

_"Miss?" asked Sarah, puzzled, and Elizabeth shook her head._

_"A little faint," she admitted. "Perhaps I need to eat something. I just had the strangest thought that I've worn this stone before." She looked at herself intently, deep blue eyes boring into her own reflection, and suddenly gasped._

* * *

Belle awoke with a start, to find that she was alone in the bed. Heart thumping a little from the suddenness of her waking, she smiled to herself, fingering the necklace that was around her neck. She had spent the night having extremely vivid dreams, and the last was no exception. She had somehow managed to dream that she was the author of her grandmother's book, that she had worn the very necklace that was currently tangled in her hair, and that she was about to attend a fashionable ball. Belle chuckled to herself at the thought of her clumsiness mixed with formal dancing. She had had other dreams too, of herself, and of Gold, and she rolled her eyes at the memory of a couple of them, surprised she wasn't more tired. The man really was making her lose her wits. She could hear noises downstairs, so she pushed herself up, yawning, and drew on Gold's robe. She spent a couple of minutes untangling the necklace from her dark curls, and left it on his dresser; he could put it back in the safe after she had gone. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she padded down the stairs to the kitchen. He looked around as she entered, already dressed and cooking eggs.

"I was going to bring this up to you," he said. "Here or the bedroom. Your choice."

"Are we talking about breakfast or something else?" she asked with a grin, and his eyes twinkled at her.

"Tempting though the idea is, we both need to get to work," he said sternly, and she slid onto one of the chairs with a sigh.

"Kitchen, then," she agreed. "Do you need a hand?"

"All under control." He dished up the eggs with buttered toast and brought them to her, following them with cups of coffee. They ate and drank in silence for a few minutes.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked eventually, and she nodded readily.

"I had a dream about you last night," she confided with a grin. "Actually, there were a few. Except, it wasn't really you. I mean, it _was_ you, but not…_you_."

Gold blinked. "Well, I'm glad we cleared that up," he said dryly, and she shot him a look as she cut into her toast.

"What I mean is, it looked like you, but you were dressed in – I don't know, this wool tunic, or something." Her fingers gestured up and down and she lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Bit of a different look for you. And you were sitting at a spinning wheel." She licked butter from her thumb.

Gold's heart lurched, but his expression remained neutral. "Really? Well, you know I have one in the shop. Did this little fantasy get any more interesting? Perhaps it could give us ideas…"

Belle giggled, swatting him playfully. "It wasn't _that_ sort of dream! Admittedly I did have a few of those, but…" She grinned at his expression. "No, you were just sitting there and – spinning. You looked at me once, and smiled." She looked pensive. "It was kind of nice. You looked peaceful. Happy."

"And what interpretation do you put on this?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"That I've been reading way too much about history and you work too hard," she said dismissively.

"Some say that dreams are memories," he said casually. "Memories of another life."

Belle grinned at him. "So you think we knew one another in a past life?" she teased. "You would think you would have learned your lesson the first time around."

He smiled at her. "One would think."

She gave him a curious, calculating look then, sipping her coffee. "Do you believe in past lives?"

His smile widened. "I never rule anything out."

* * *

Gold dropped her off at the university, giving her plenty of time to prepare for her first class, and Belle sat down to go through a few papers. She was half-way through when her phone buzzed to reveal a message from Ruby: _O.M.F.G! You need to call me. X._

Sighing to herself, Belle called her, and Ruby answered immediately, almost bursting with news.

"You will _not_ guess what just happened!" she hissed.

"Probably not," agreed Belle. "Why don't you just tell me?"

"Kathryn Nolan just stormed into the diner and slapped Snow right across the face in front of _everyone!_" said Ruby. "Turns out Snow has been sleeping with her husband, David."

"The vet?" asked Belle, puzzled. "But I've never even seen them together!"

"I know, I know!" exclaimed Ruby. "She's wasted as a schoolteacher; she should be a secret agent!"

"How is she?" asked Belle, worried, and Ruby sobered.

"Not good. Apparently he was supposed to tell his wife it was over and he loved Snow, but he took the coward's way out and told her they just weren't connecting, or some other crap. Someone else told her about Snow, but we don't know who yet."

"Poor Kathryn," said Belle, biting her lip. "Poor Snow! She must be devastated."

"Devastated doesn't cut it," said Ruby grimly. "She had to call into the school and take a sick day. I'm going round after my shift, but I think she'll need some serious TLC tonight."

Belle sighed. "I'll pick up some ice cream."

* * *

That evening, having trudged her way home through a fresh fall of snow, Belle shut the door behind herself, dropped her bag, and slumped against the wall tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose to clear her vision.

"In the kitchen," she heard Ruby call, and she made her way wearily towards the sound of her voice, a wan smile on her face as she saw that Emma and Snow were already there. Snow's eyes were red and puffy, but she looked to have stopped crying for the moment. Belle set the tub of double chocolate ice cream in front of her and went to get spoons from the drawer.

"I feel like such an idiot," said Snow, folding her arms on the table and resting her head on them. Ruby squeezed her shoulder.

"You're not an idiot," said Belle gently, and Snow dashed angry tears from her eyes, sitting up again and tearing the lid off the ice cream tub.

"He said he'd tell her," she sniffed. "He _promised_ me he'd tell her!"

"Newsflash: Man Lies," said Emma flatly, pouring wine for Belle. "Sorry, honey. I doubt Sidney'll hold the front page for that one."

Snow gave a tearful chuckle. "Now the whole town thinks I'm a total slut," she muttered.

"I'm sure that's not true," Belle reassured her.

"Yeah, if anyone's the town slut here, it's definitely me," added Ruby. "I think I should get a T-shirt with it on, stop all the confusion."

"Although it's Belle that's been having all the weird sex, so it's probably her," put in Emma.

"I'm not having weird sex!" protested Belle, blushing, and Emma shrugged.

"Really? Sorry, made an assumption. He looks the type."

Belle glared at her, but Ruby and Snow were giggling, although Snow was still wiping away tears. Belle turned back to her.

"Look, honey, you can't help who you fall in love with," she said gently.

"You can if they're married," said Snow despondently. "I should just have stayed away from him."

There was too much truth in that to argue with, so they stayed silent. Emma refilled Snow's glass and encouraged her to drink it.

"Well, my love life tanked this week too," admitted Ruby. "Archie can't look at me in class without blushing, which I think is grossly unfair since I haven't done _any_ of the things I _could _do to make him blush, Billy's away, and I let some random guy chat me up in a bar and walk me home."

"Which guy?" asked Emma, interested. "That – what was his name – Hook? Cute, but I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

"Hmm, well, he was very charming," said Ruby. "He bought the drinks, so no complaints there, and he walked me home. We kissed (that part was great), and then he asked if he could use the bathroom."

"Oh, _that_ old trick," nodded Emma.

"Yeah, so I followed him upstairs to see what was taking so long, and he was in Belle's bedroom." She looked apologetic as Belle frowned. "He said I was hoping I'd change my mind about – well, you know – but something didn't seem right, so I threw him out."

"Maybe he was trying to steal stuff," offered Snow, spooning ice cream into her mouth. Belle wrinkled her brow.

"I don't _think _anything's missing," she said thoughtfully. Emma turned to Snow.

"Well, in terms of dysfunctional relationships, it looks as though we can give you a run for your money," she said. She took a deep breath, as though steeling herself. "I kissed Graham."

"_What?" _shouted the other three, and she grinned.

"Yeah, I kind of ran into him yesterday and we ended up getting a coffee, then I gave him a ride back to work, and – we kissed. In the university car park, right under Regina's nose. So it's actually me who's the slut here."

"Maybe we should _all_ get T-shirts," mused Ruby, with a sudden grin. "'Storybrooke Slut-bags' on the front, with our names on the back. We could be one of those girl gangs, without the piercings and petty crime." The others chuckled.

Belle shook her head. "I wouldn't want to be in Graham's shoes when Regina finds out. Are you seeing each other?"

Emma hesitated, and suddenly smiled shyly, an expression none of her friends had seen on her before. "Well, he says he's telling her it's over, so, who knows?"

"Assuming he's not as big a liar as David," said Snow bleakly, digging the spoon into her ice cream.

There was silence for a moment, then Emma nudged Belle.

"So, come on, spill," she said, and Belle raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Emma gave her a look. "Gold. You've been tight-lipped since last weekend, except when you yelled about orgasms in the street – wish I'd been there for that, by the way. What gives?"

Belle pushed her spoon into the ice cream, and ate some slowly, thinking.

"It's weird," she said eventually, and Emma snorted.

"Knew it!" she declared, and Belle rolled her eyes.

"No, I don't mean like _that_, I mean: it's weird, because it's like he _knows_ me." She gestured with the spoon as they exchanged confused glances. "I mean, it's like he knows every bit of me, and everything I need. Even some stuff I didn't _know_ I needed. It's like…" She frowned, pondering. "This is going to sound crazy. The sex is mind-blowing, but it goes deeper than that, like we were always meant to be together."

"Like destiny," nodded Snow, blinking rapidly as though she was trying not to cry again.

"Yes," agreed Belle eagerly. Emma and Ruby shared despairing glances.

"D'you love him?" asked Ruby curiously. "A little soon, isn't it?"

"I love him," said Belle decidedly. "The weird thing is, it kind of feels as though I always have."

* * *

"You don't call, you don't write…" Jefferson barged into the house, ebullient as ever, and Gold rolled his eyes, following him into the lounge. Jefferson threw himself onto the sofa, arms spread out across the back and his booted left foot resting on his right knee. He nodded at the wine glass in Gold's hand.

"Wine, is it? I wouldn't say no."

"Do you ever?" asked Gold dryly, but he put down his glass and went to fetch another. Jefferson took a generous gulp, making a noise of appreciation.

"Good stuff! Anyhow, I'm here to give you an update."

"Go on." Gold sipped his own wine, and Jefferson sat forward, running his fingers through his hair.

"Okay, so you wanted to know if there was anyone new in town," he began. "A couple of guys turned up while you were away. Dark-haired. Thirties, I think. They're staying at Granny's. The tale they've put around is that they're doing some work on one of the warehouses down by the docks, but I had a quick scout around down there and I couldn't hear anything going on. They seem to spend way too much time in Granny's and the Rabbit Hole for guys with a steady day job."

"Seeking information, then," nodded Gold. "What else?"

"One of my girls got talking to them last night," continued Jefferson.

"One of your _girls_?" said Gold, amused, and Jefferson threw up his hands.

"Hey, Storybrooke's a big place, I can't be everywhere!" he protested. "Anyway, I got down there, and it turns out that the younger one had been chatting up Ruby Lucas at Granny's the other night. Walked her home."

"And then?" asked Gold. Jefferson shrugged, pulling his bottom lip up over his teeth in a bemused expression.

"No word. They weren't together last night. Maybe he's just a player trying his luck."

"Perhaps," acknowledged Gold, although he didn't believe it. "No doubt Miss Lucas will inform her friends of what occurred. Anything else?"

"Yes," said Jefferson, with satisfaction, taking another drink. "The other one was asking my friend about the teachers at the university. She says he got a little bit too interested when she mentioned Belle. Tried to hide it, but not very well. He doesn't seem as smooth as his buddy."

Gold's hands tightened on his cane. "Indeed? And the name?"

Jefferson wrinkled his nose. "Kevin? No, Keith. Definitely Keith."

Gold felt a tiny smile drag the left corner of his mouth upwards. _So._

"Well, it would appear that these two gentlemen are making themselves unwelcome," he said lightly.

"Yeah." Jefferson took a swallow of wine, looking a little concerned. "Look, I know you and Belle are doing it like bunnies, but you haven't gotten her mixed up in anything she shouldn't be, right?"

Gold sighed. "I assure you that any threat they may pose to Belle will be dealt with," he said. "I'm sure you have their room number at Granny's."

"Number four," said Jefferson, twirling his almost empty glass between his fingers. "They're supposed to be there for two weeks and working down at the old cannery." He gave Gold a hesitant glance. "Look, Gold, you know I'm always happy to do your spying, but I'm really not adept at physical violence."

"I know," said Gold, taking a drink. He raised an eyebrow, and added: "Fortunately I am."

* * *

It was approaching eleven when Keith Nottingham made his way up the stairs of Granny's B & B to the room he shared with Hook. The two men had found out a fair bit of information in the past couple of days, but they still hadn't managed to recover the necklace. He suspected that it would take a proper burglary to locate the thing in the girl's room, but she was likely to be home that weekend, and they wanted to avoid any complications if at all possible, particularly as she appeared to be friends with that hot police officer. Hook fancied his chances with that one, though Nottingham could have told him that he was on a hiding to nothing, having already made that Ruby girl suspicious. He pushed his key into the lock and turned it, stepping into the room. There was a tiny, low whistle, as though something was travelling extremely fast, a sharp blow to the side of his head, and darkness.

"Wakey wakey, dearie." A cold, calm voice slipped into Nottingham's brain, pulling him up out of the depths, and he felt pain in his head. Groaning, he tried to move, and found that he couldn't. His heart began to pound with fear, but as he swam up out of unconsciousness he realised that he had been tied to a chair, duct tape securing his wrists to the arms and his torso to the back. He couldn't move his feet; he suspected his ankles had also been taped to the legs. This was not really a comforting thought, and he opened his eyes, blinking groggily. The room was dark, the light from the streetlamp outside the only illumination. There was a shadowy figure standing by one of the beds, slight and below average height, a thin strip of light shining off something held in front of him. A cane? That explained the headache, certainly. One short thin guy with a bum leg shouldn't be too hard to deal with, unless… Nottingham groaned again.

"Who are you?" asked the voice, and he scowled.

"Fuck you, you asshole!"

Moving more quickly than he could have believed, the figure pounced, grasping the little finger of his left hand and bending it backwards in one swift, bone-cracking movement. Nottingham cried out.

"That wasn't the answer I was looking for," said the voice, almost apologetically. "Perhaps I didn't explain the game. I ask questions, and you answer truthfully. Fail in this, and I hurt you. Do you understand the rules?"

Nottingham glowered at him, but nodded.

"Good. Now, shall we try again? Who are you?"

"Nottingham," he spat, pain lancing through his hand.

"And your friend?"

Nottingham hesitated, but shouted the name as the figure lunged again. "Hook! His name's Hook!" He panted with fear as the man before him straightened up slowly.

"And do you know who I am?" the figure asked quietly, the gleam of metal briefly shining in his mouth.

"Short. Thin. Walks with a cane. Total fucking psycho. I'm guessing you'd be Mr Gold," said Nottingham sulkily, earning a soft chuckle.

"My reputation precedes me. Excellent."

Nottingham decided to play dumb. "Look, buddy, I don't know what you want, but I paid the old woman. We don't owe you a thing!"

"Oh, so you think I'm here for the rent?" asked Gold softly. "I highly doubt that. But the question really isn't what _I'm_ doing here, besides tying you to a chair and contemplating beating you to a bloody pulp. The _real _question is, what are _you _doing here? Why have you come to my town?"

Nottingham hesitated, tongue wetting his lips nervously. "We're on a job, down at the old cannery…" he began, and shrieked as the handle of Gold's cane slammed down on his kneecap. "You fucking bastard!" he roared.

"Don't lie to me, Mr Nottingham," said Gold idly. "You've been asking questions, poking your noses in where they don't belong. I want to know why. You either tell me, or I make you tell me. That may take us a while – I really don't know how much pain you can stand, but I assure you that I'm very inventive. What's it to be?" Nottingham was silent, and Gold raised his cane again.

"Alright!" he said hastily. "We were sent here to retrieve something. A necklace. That's it. We just need to steal a necklace, okay? We're not big guns, we're not here on a turf invasion. No harm, no foul, right? Right, Gold?"

Gold was silent for a moment, the dark shadow of fingers slowly stroking his chin.

"And so to my next question," he said quietly. "And believe me, Mr Nottingham, when I say a wrong answer _will_ cost you all your points. Who sent you?"

Nottingham swallowed hard. _Shit. Shitshitshit! _His heart hammered with fear, and for the first time he wished he'd gotten a steady job when he dropped out of school, rather than looking for a quick route to riches. A second agonising blow to his knee made him see stars, made him want to throw up, and he screamed.

"Who sent you?" said Gold, his voice low, dangerous. He lifted the cane again, a shaft of ebony in the dim light, and Nottingham panicked.

"Midas!" he gabbled. "We work for Midas! It's his idea, not ours, we're just here to collect the thing. Honestly! I'm not lying, Gold, I swear!" His voice was breaking a little over the agony in his knee and hand.

"Well, that wasn't so difficult, now was it?" said Gold pleasantly. "Where is your partner in crime?"

"Bar," choked Nottingham.

"Excellent." Gold planted his feet firmly apart, hands on his cane. "Now, this is what I propose. The two of you leave my town and never return, on pain of death. An exceedingly agonising death, at that. Do I make myself clear? Should I write this down, or can you remember?"

"I understand," muttered Nottingham, but his heart lightened a little. He was going to live. From some of the stories he'd heard of Gold, that was a pleasant surprise.

"You've been most helpful, Mr Nottingham," said Gold dryly. "Do pass on my compliments to your employer, and tell him I'll be in touch personally to discuss this matter further."

The dark presence that was Gold melted towards the door, and Nottingham let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, his head dropping forwards onto his chest.

* * *

Saturday found Belle in the kitchen, once Emma and Snow had eaten breakfast and left for their own place. Snow seemed a little down, but was better than she had been the night before. When Belle asked her how she was feeling, Snow had simply shrugged and said: "it's meant to be, but perhaps not yet."

Gold had said that he would collect Belle at six for their date, and she spent the afternoon making food for them to eat. She baked a salmon and broccoli quiche and an apple pie and cooked some chicken legs, leaving everything to go cold and preparing salad and coleslaw to eat with them. Ruby sat on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs and looking amused as Belle packed everything into a picnic hamper.

"A little cold for picnics, isn't it?" she asked, and Belle shrugged.

"I don't know where we're going," she admitted. "I'll put on plenty of layers, just in case." She looked up at Ruby. "What are you up to tonight?"

"Oh, Snow and I are having a DVD and cocktail pyjama-party," said Ruby with a grin, holding up her phone with a message on it. "We're gonna watch some god-awful chick flick that you and Emma would turn your noses up at, drink mojitos and talk about our tangled love-lives." She put her head on the side, looking at Belle. "You up for being my study-buddy tomorrow?"

"God, yes!" sighed Belle. "I have tons to do. Plus, I have a heap of papers to grade. And some of them are gonna take ages. D'you know, some of my students don't even _bother _to read the books I set them?" Her brows lifted with indignation.

"Imagine that," said Ruby dryly. "It's almost as though there's a purpose to publishing CliffsNotes."

Belle grinned, looking at the clock and noting that it was almost six. She carried the basket through to the hallway and trotted up the stairs to dig out a few thin sweaters, in case she really did need to layer up. Shoving them into her small overnight bag with the other things she had packed, she descended to the hall just in time to hear the doorbell. Ruby caught her up in a hug before she answered it, and Belle squeezed her back before pulling open the door to him.

"Hey!" she said breathlessly, shoving her bag at him. "Put that in the car, I've got the food."

He smirked, amused, and inclined his head for her to follow, Ruby waving them off cheerfully.

He was driving the car himself, which intrigued her, as they clearly weren't going to be dropped somewhere by Dover. She was unable to think of where they could be staying, and as the car left the outskirts of Storybrooke she started to look around in confusion.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, and he simply smiled and said nothing. A few minutes later, he turned the car off the road onto a dirt track that she hadn't even noticed, and drove slowly into the woods. The narrow track wound for a mile or so before ending outside a log cabin. Belle's mouth fell open.

"I had no idea this was here!" she said. "Is it yours?"

"Indeed." He parked the car and turned to her, gesturing towards the cabin. "Our accommodation for this evening, my lady."

Belle giggled, and shrugged out of her seatbelt, bouncing out of the car eagerly. She noted that the cabin had a porch with a large stack of firewood, and hoped that he would be lighting a fire fairly quickly. Running around the side of the cabin, she saw that it sat on the edge of a large lake, mist rising from the water in the night air. There was a clean scent of pine sap and leaf mulch in her nostrils, the rustle and chirp of night time insects and woodland creatures. Belle took a deep breath, inhaling the scent and feel of the dark forest around her. When she turned back to the car, Gold was taking her bag from the bag, and she trotted over to pick up the hamper. She kissed his cheek loudly, and he chuckled.

"I take it you approve," he said, amused, and she grinned and skipped to the front door of the cabin.

* * *

Belle got out the food, and Gold opened the white wine he had brought that had kept chilled in the trunk of the car on the way over. The cabin itself had a large living area, with an open fire, couch and armchairs, and a woven rug on the floor. There was a small kitchen area with a tiny fridge, kettle and toaster, and a few cupboards. Through a door beyond the chimney breast, there was a bedroom and a small shower room. Belle thought it was perfect, particularly as there were a few well-stocked bookshelves but no TV. She had brought her grandmother's book with her, but thought it rude to look at it while they were eating. Her gaze was constantly drawn to where it sat on the arm of the couch, however, and Gold kept shooting her amused glances as he tried to engage her in conversation. He had lit a fire as soon as they entered, along with a bunch of thick candles, which gave a warm, pleasant light. Belle arranged their picnic on plates and found glasses for the wine, and now they were sitting side by side on the couch, contentedly full.

"How's the book?" he asked casually, and she looked up, eyes bright and slightly misty with a faraway look he had come to recognise as her being carried away by her reading materials.

"Oh, it's amazing!" she said, curling her feet up underneath her and sipping her wine. "I thought it was a collection of old stories, but it's so much more than that." She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and settled herself more comfortably, clearing her throat. "The book seems to have been put together a couple of hundred years ago, in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, by a woman called Elizabeth Willoughby."

Gold's brow crinkled slightly, not recognising the name. "What do you know about her?"

"Not much," admitted Belle. "She seems to have been a member of the English upper class, a gentleman's daughter, with money but no title, at least, there's no mention of any title in the book."

"I thought you said it was a book of stories," he said, confused, and she shook her head.

"Much of it is, but she also wrote snippets in there from her own life; it's a sort of journal with these old folk tales intertwined with eighteenth and nineteenth century everyday stuff." She took another drink. "I haven't gotten all the way through it yet, because there are so many parallels with what I've been reading for you I just haven't had the time, I had to keep cross-checking stuff to make sure I wasn't going crazy."

Gold's fingers tightened on his glass. "What do you mean?"

Belle shrugged, flicking her hair back, and reached for the book. "She seems to have been a bit of a collector. You can see that all of the pages are vellum. That's unusual, paper would have been used at the time she was writing. It's like she wanted to make sure the book survived for a long time, but that's not the only weird thing. She hasn't written all of it; a lot of the stories are in her hand, but there are also old documents, like the ones I've been looking at for you, stitched in amongst everything else and then folded up. That's why there's a clasp on the book; the insides are thicker than the spine." She held it up for his perusal, and he saw that there were indeed vellum documents folded neatly so that they fitted within the overall shape of the book itself.

"You said there were parallels," he prompted gently, and Belle nodded.

"Yeah, I nearly fell over when I found this," she said excitedly. "I mean, talk about a coincidence!" She flicked through the pages, and opened out one of the documents. "Look! A description of what happened to Isabelle Beauchamp! Can you believe it?" She gazed up at him, eyes sparkling, and he reached for the book, taking it carefully from her. She sat back with her wine, not noticing how badly his hands were shaking.

"It's well-written, clearly by someone well-educated, but there's no name," she added. "It tells how she tried to save the people of Avonleigh from the darkness that fell upon them. I guess that was the plague. It says how she tended the sick and dying, and that she was betrayed by her family, by those she thought she could trust. It says how strong she was, how beautiful. A flicker of light in an ocean of darkness, one line says. It's really quite moving."

Gold ran a finger over the small, neatly inked letters, feeling the texture of the vellum. There was a lump in his throat so big he didn't trust himself to speak.

Belle sighed. "It must have been written by someone who loved her," she said sadly. "Her father, or perhaps a brother. It says it was her family that betrayed her, but they can't all have been against her. She wasn't married, so no husband. I thought it could have been Brother Philip, he at least seems to have respected and liked her, but the writing is different. Guess we'll never know."

Gold carefully folded the page back up and put down the book, not looking at her. He stood up, crossing to the fire and staring into it, sipping his wine in an attempt to calm his pounding heart.

"How…" He swallowed, and tried again. "How did this woman come across these documents?"

"Well, that's the weird thing." He could hear the frown in her voice. "The journal starts off with her talking about a ball she attended, and her father and mother trying to get her to catch a man's interest. She mentions this Duke they're clearly set on her marrying." Belle giggled a little. "She's not in the least bit interested, I can tell! She writes that she'd far rather sit in her library than talk about horses and dogs all day, and apparently the Duke's library is less than impressive!"

"She sounds a lot like you," he said, amused, turning to face her, and Belle chuckled.

"Yes, well, she mentions these documents that she found, so I presume they were in the family library or something. Then she seems to get a little obsessed by it; she mentions destiny and fate and that she is meant to reunite the three."

"The three what?" asked Gold, a finger of ice sliding up his spine. Belle shrugged.

"Don't know. It's probably buried in here somewhere, but I've been flicking back and forth rather than reading cover to cover. She mentions her dreams, too, that she sees much in dreams. She says at one point 'when I wak'd, I cried to dream again'."

"_The Tempest_," nodded Gold. "What is it that she dreams of?"

"A man," said Belle, her full lips curving into a grin. His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"She writes that she knows her true love will come for her, that she can't understand why it's taking him so long," said Belle, and drained her glass. "That's as far as I got."

Gold turned away from her again, his blood running cold. He had to read the book. He was afraid to, but he had to.

He heard her slip from the couch, and approach him on her bare feet. He threw back the wine in his glass and put it down as she put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his back. He turned in her arms to face her, suddenly filled with a burning need to kiss her, to lose himself in her, to be reassured that she was there. He cupped her face with his hands, tilting her head upwards, and lowered his lips to hers, pushing them open to taste her. Belle responded eagerly, running her hands up his back and pulling him close as he devoured her hungrily, his hands tugging at buttons and pushing back clothing until she was half-naked in front of him. He pulled her down onto the rug beside the crackling fire, kissing her deeply and making her gasp and tear at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons until he undid the top three and pulled the thing over his head, throwing it aside so that his skin could press against hers.

"You're very eager tonight," she murmured, her eyes teasing, and he silenced her with another kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth and gently stroking, his hands undressing them. She helped him off with his pants and underwear, her breathing quickening as he clutched at her, his hands cupping her, caressing her. He unzipped her skirt, tugging it down her thighs and pulling her flush against him as he rolled onto his side, his fingers combing through her hair as he cradled her head. Belle pushed him onto his back, sliding on top of him and kissing him hard, her tongue probing his mouth as he frantically tugged off his socks, wanting all of her, wanting nothing to be between them. She suddenly broke the kiss, falling to the side and whipping off her underwear before rolling back on top of him. She straddled him, her wet heat pushing against him, but he grasped her wrists and rolled her over onto her back, wanting to take her, to claim her. He slid his hands behind her knees, pulling them up, and Belle moaned, writhing beneath him as he lay down between her legs, his mouth running over her breasts and up to her neck, licking the delicate taste of salt from her skin. He slipped his hand up between her thighs, fingers softly probing, the pad of his thumb rubbing her clit and making her squirm against him as her wetness coated him. She could feel him hard against her, waiting for her. He gazed down at her, his eyes black pits of desire, making her shiver deliciously.

"What would please you, my lady?" he asked softly, his accent thickening.

Belle reached up to cup his cheek, stroking his hair back from his face. "You," she said softly. "Only you. Inside me."

He lowered his mouth to hers, and Belle lost herself in the feel of his kiss, in the depths of his passion for her, moaning her pleasure as he slid home. The candles guttered in a slight draft, the fire flickering, and she looked up at him in the gold and amber light, touching his face, running her thumb over his lip as he whispered her name and gazed intently down at her. She watched the small muscles in his shoulders and chest jumping as he moved, his skin warm in the light from the fire, the flames leaping and dancing in his eyes. She moved with him, her thighs gripping his waist, her fingertips stroking down his back, the nails digging in whenever he hit her just right. The firelight flickered over them as they moved, casting dark shadows over his face, and Belle had a sudden, familiar feeling of _déjà vu_. It disappeared as quickly as it had come and she ceased to think of it as the pleasure began to build towards its inevitable peak. She moaned, arching into him, letting her head fall back against the rug.

"Stay with me, Belle," he whispered urgently, stroking her hair back from her face. "Come with me."

She nodded, and he kissed her gently, keeping his rhythm, as she felt him start to stiffen, the muscles tightening in his back and shoulders. She was close, so close, and if he didn't… He groaned, pulsing within her, and the sensation made her explode, pushing against him, crying out his name as she clung to him. Images burst into her mind, that they had done this before, the wooden walls, the log fire, the two of them naked on the rug, not a woven rug, but a soft sheepskin. The images changed, became real, became something she was _experiencing_. His hands felt different, rougher, more calloused. She saw his face gazing down at her with love in his eyes, felt his hands caressing her body. She felt her own hands running through his hair, the softness of it between her fingers, the rasp of his stubble as she touched his face. There was a heavy gold ring set with a red stone on her third finger, winking ruby flashes in the candlelight. She could smell his scent, the musky undertone she knew, stronger than she was used to, covering her, mingling with her own scent. She could smell woodsmoke and sheepswool and tallow, pungent in her nose, and the clean smell of the fresh rushes on the floor. She felt the sharp, tearing pain as he took her innocence and the softness of his lips as he kissed away her tears. She felt the pleasure he gave her all over again, her body shaking with it until her mind went dark.

"Belle?" His voice was rough and low, a hint of worry in it, and she shook her head, her vision returning. She was beneath him, on the rug, by the fire. The cabin. She lay in silence, gasping for breath, her heart pounding, fear coursing through her. He was looking concerned, and she suddenly felt that she needed to run: somewhere, anywhere.

"Get off," she muttered, pushing at his chest, and he looked concerned.

"Are you alright?"

"Get off me!" She shoved at him, and he withdrew, pushing himself up so that she could slide out from beneath him. She struggled to her feet, sprawling and ungainly, and rushed to the front door, pulling it open and darting out onto the porch completely naked. The cold air bit harshly at her, making her skin pebble and her breath mist in front of her, and she rubbed her arms briskly, trying to calm herself as she shook uncontrollably. The freezing temperature seemed to focus her mind, and she took deep breaths, slowing her thumping heart. After a moment, the door opened behind her and she shivered as he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"Sweetheart," he said gently. "It's ten below out here. You'll freeze. Come back inside."

He was right, of course, and she was freaking out for no logical reason, so she let him lead her back into the cabin and shut the door. She sat on the couch by the fire, clutching the blanket around herself, her shivering not entirely from the cold. Without a word, he went into the kitchenette. She heard him groping around in a cupboard and a clink of glasses, then he handed her a squat tumbler with a generous measure of amber liquid. Whisky; she could smell it. She took a large swig, and it coursed down her throat like fire, giving her strength and making her fears retreat a little. He put another couple of logs on the fire, then lowered himself carefully onto the couch beside her, clad only in his suit pants. He watched her for a long moment as her shivers subsided.

"Would you like to tell me what's wrong?" he asked.

The honest answer was 'no', but Belle realised he was probably as worried as she was, for different reasons, so she drew a shaking hand across her mouth and turned to him with a tremulous smile.

"Sorry, you must think I'm crazy." He waited, and she continued. "I – something happened. It was like, one minute I was here, with you, and the next I was somewhere else. It was like a hallucination, but with my sense of smell and touch and…" She shrugged elaborately. "It freaked me out, I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologise," he said gently, stroking her hair back behind her ear. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Belle bit her lip, thinking. The images and feelings were fading now, but she could still remember them. "I was with you. We were making love by the fire, but it wasn't here. There were sheepskin rugs and rushes on the floor." He was very still, his face expressionless, and she decided against telling him that in the vision he had taken her virginity, in case he really thought she was crazy.

"Are you seeing anything now?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No, it only lasted a minute or so, probably not even that." She hugged herself, taking another gulp of whisky. "Maybe I have a fever."

He felt her forehead. "You're fine. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"It was so real," she whispered, and he pulled her into a hug, warming her though the blanket.

"You're here with me," he said gently. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Belle nestled against his chest, drinking her whisky.

"Perhaps it was our past life," she laughed shakily, and felt him smile against her hair.

"I have no doubt of it," he said. "The important question is, was the sex as good?"

She laughed properly then, and he kissed her, holding her close.

"Let's get some clothes on you before you catch a cold and Ruby skins me alive," he suggested, and she nodded.

Later, as she lay sleeping peacefully, he slipped from the bed and padded through to the lounge. The flames had died in the hearth, the gleaming red embers reminding him of her fire opal, that stone that had always seemed to capture her energy, her life force, her courage. His gaze strayed to the book, still sitting on the arm of the couch. Tapping the fingers of his left hand against his leg, he walked to the kitchenette, retrieved the whisky bottle, and poured himself a generous measure. Then he sat down, laid his cane beside him, picked up the book, and began to read.

* * *

**A/N: Hmm, and what will he find?**

**This was a little longer than I intended, but I'm sure you won't mind. Next chapter will be up just as soon as I can write it.**


	21. What Might Have Been

**A/N: Well, how about that? I was inspired, hence the short delay in posting chapters. Thanks to all who followed and favourited, you guys are the best!**

**Ecinspired, Erik'sTrueAngel, karolprado, CharlotteAshmore, narciscia, Wondermorena, JustBFree, jewel415, michellelramsey1, Lattelady, cheesyteal'c, The Prince's Phoenix, crazykat77, emmaleewhittaker, morgananne16, RaFire, deweymay, The Auburn Girl, Twyla Mercedes, Jedi Annie Scrambler: thanks for all your kind words and rampant speculation. Here's the next chapter, wherein some of your questions will be answered. **

* * *

Gold took a drink of his whisky, flicking through the pages. Belle had been right, this Elizabeth Willoughby had initially written of the everyday life of a Regency lady; there were details of a ball she was attending, and the necklace her father had given her (his stomach had lurched a little at that, but there was no description) and the fact that she would sooner read than dance. He had smiled at that, reminded of Belle. There were disparaging remarks about some of the suitors that came to call on her, a few of which made him chuckle. He turned the pages, skimming over a folk tale of a water demon that preyed on maidens, and came across another passage that she had written. He took another drink, his heart suddenly beginning to pound.

_'I dream at night of a man, and of myself. And yet, I know it is not me, but some other woman, long ago. I do not know if she has my face and form, for I cannot see myself. I see only him. I blush to think on the dreams I have, of the things he does. I dream also of healing people, of tending the sick and dying. The images, sounds and scents are so clear, that when I wake I am uncertain for a time what is real, and what is in my head. It began the night of the ball, when I first wore the stone. I feel certain that it is the stone, and not the necklace that is the cause, for the stone is ancient. I have taken to wearing the stone to bed, for the dreams come more often. Sarah chides me for it, as the chain tangles my hair, but I am curious to meet him again, so that I will know him when he comes for me. I know that he will find me, for he always does. Then we can be together, to do what must be done.'_

His heart in his throat, Gold turned the pages with trembling fingers. He gulped more whisky, putting his glass down, and flicked past stories of malevolent fairy folk and portals to other worlds. He came across a later passage that Elizabeth had written, and chewed his lip anxiously as he began to read.

_'I do not understand where he could be. From what I dream and what I know, he always comes to me. He comes when I am at the cusp of womanhood, and I am past that now. I am almost one and twenty, practically an old maid, and Mama says that I must marry. But how can I marry when my true love waits for me? Mama says that true love is a ridiculous notion, and that I have filled my head with nonsense from the books I read, but she has never felt as I have felt. She has never loved as I know that I have loved, and have been loved. I had hoped to meet him at a ball, or an assembly, or even in town, but he is nowhere to be seen. I should know him on sight. Has he forgotten me? Does he love another? How can he live and not be with me? Perhaps he does not. Perhaps he is no more, and I am a foolish girl, as Mama says. Perhaps he no longer cares for me, but how can that be so, when there is so much work left for us to do?'_

Gold turned the page, his hands shaking, his eyes stinging with unshed tears as he read Elizabeth's words. How had he not known where she was? He had searched for his love, _they_ had searched for her, for so long, through so many lifetimes, that he had almost given up hope before finding Belle. And yet, here she was, speaking to him from the dawn of the nineteenth century, a beautiful ghost. He recalled who he had been then. He had, ironically, been in Boston, a prosperous merchant with business interests in London, amassing a steady fortune from the chaos of the Napoleonic Wars. He had not found her, despite every tiny lead they had chased. What had in the past been so easy, occurred so naturally, was rendered nigh impossible with her untimely loss in the forsaken town of Avonleigh. His fingers scrabbled at the pages, revealing the folded 14th century document that Belle had showed him earlier that night. He could not bear to read it again, to recall the pain and devastation he had felt when writing it, to see the evidence of the tears he had shed over her ending, faint splash marks in the ink of centuries past. Taking a gulp of whisky, he flipped ahead through the book and scanned the page in front of him. He skipped forward again, seeing that it was merely another story, this one about a dark creature that lived under the hill. His eyes searched hungrily for more of her words, for the pain and suffering they would bring him, for he knew he deserved it.

_'I despair of him coming. I refused the Duke's third offer today, and he has told Papa he will not ask again. Mama tells Papa that he should give the Duke permission and make me marry him, but Papa has refused, thank heaven! I cannot marry him. Even were he not ignorant and vile I could not bear to have him touch me, when my mind, body and soul belong to another. And yet I pine for the one I know I cannot have, but cannot be without. Sarah is a comfort, but she does not understand. None can understand. I tried to explain to Papa, but he gave me the queerest look and stated that I must be suffering from some woman's complaint. He says that he will call for a doctor if I do not rouse myself. I worry that he now thinks me mad. Perhaps I am, for what is madness but the loss of all hope, and the attachment to a life that can never be?'_

Gold's shoulders shook, tears brimming over and streaming down his face so that he could barely read the words. His light, his love, withering and dying because he couldn't find her. How many times had she suffered this? How many times had she lived and died, thinking he no longer cared for her, no longer loved her? He had hoped that his was the only pain, and that had been bad enough, to live life after life searching for the lost piece of his soul, never finding her. It had been some comfort to him that without him to wake her, she would not remember him. This journal showed that at least one incarnation of her _had_ remembered, and loved him, and suffered for it. He wiped the tears from his eyes, weeping silently, cursing his fate, her fate. A part of him wished he'd died with her, when she was taken from him.

* * *

_Langfell Castle had been a quiet, almost dreary place for the past four years, but now the Earl of Avonleigh was back from the Crusades, considerably richer, a little fatter, and inclined to complain of pain in his left leg in the damp weather. Large fires burned in the hearths, and the earl, his wife and daughter were once more seated around the long table in the hall of the castle. Earl Richard sat facing the large oak doors, tearing at a piece of roasted boar with his fingers and wiping them on his tunic. His wife, the Lady Marie, sat at the opposite end, a slender beauty with shining dark hair that was only just starting to grey at the temples. Their daughter, the Lady Isabelle, sat between them, picking at her food, the dark red dress she wore only a shade lighter than the wine in the goblet before her that she had barely touched. Her father crunched a piece of crispy pigskin, looking at her suspiciously. _

_"Daughter, you must eat," he said gruffly, but not unkindly. "Starving yourself will not change my mind. You must marry, there's nothing more to be done. If the king himself approves the match, why can't you? There's no escaping your fate."_

_Isabelle looked up, anger shining in her blue eyes. "The Earl of Salisbury is stupid, cruel and vile man whose only interest is in hunting, fighting and drinking!"_

_"Well, what in the name of all the saints is he supposed to be interested in?" asked her father, bewildered. Isabelle sighed, leaning forward._

_"I'd like to be able to talk to my husband about books, and philosophy, and the new ways of healing," she said eagerly, and her father snorted._

_"Brother Philip has indulged you too much," he said severely. "I shall speak to the prior about him, mark me, my girl! A woman has no need for that sort of learning. It's the province of men."_

_"Brother Philip doesn't think so," said Isabelle obstinately. "I think it's most unfair that Oxford and Cambridge don't accept women."_

_"A woman at a seat of learning?" tittered her mother, lifting her goblet with a languid hand. "Really, my dear! It's most unfeminine of you."_

_"You see!" barked her father. "Your mother has the right of it! No good can come of it. Imagine a woman knowing more than her husband. It's unnatural!"_

_"I won't pretend to be a stupid little doll just to make whatever idiot I marry feel better about himself!" blurted Isabelle, pushing her chair back with a scraping sound. "Master Spinner says I show extraordinary capacity for learning. The book he gave me on Aristotle was fascinating."_

_"You shouldn't be talking to that spinner," snapped her father. "The man's an arrogant upstart! I don't care if he is the alderman, he's a commoner and should know his place. Giving my daughter books!" He speared a piece of meat with his knife, shaking his head as though the sharing of knowledge was an offence worthy of the gallows._

_"The townsfolk say he never goes to the church," added her mother listlessly, and her husband snorted. _

_"I'm surprised the monks haven't had him burned for heresy, him and that strange old healer. As my daughter, you need to be setting an example to the townsfolk." _

_"I don't see that there's anything wrong with the example I set," muttered Isabelle. "Just because I won't marry the first idiot that rides by the castle…"_

_Her father popped a piece of meat in his mouth and gestured at her with his knife. "I don't want to hear any more of this! You will do your duty! With your brothers dead, I need you wedded, bedded and producing grandsons for me to pass my title to. You've turned eighteen. Your mother and I wed when she was fourteen. It's past time. You will marry the Earl of Salisbury." He nodded firmly, as though that settled the matter._

_"I'd rather go into a nunnery!" snapped Isabelle. "At least I could read in peace there!"_

_The earl slapped the table with a loud bang, making the goblets wobble dangerously. "Enough, daughter!" he barked. "You can go to your chamber and stay there until you see sense!"_

_Bristling with rage, Isabelle drew herself up to her full height (which was not that impressive) and stalked from the room. But she didn't go to her chamber. Instead, she grabbed a cloak, sneaked down the servants' staircase to the kitchens and out of the back door, and crossed to the stables. A sleepy-looking stable lad saddled her bay mare, Falcon, and she swung up into the saddle and dug in her heels, cantering out under the blocky stone gatehouse of the castle keep on her way to the town of Avonleigh._

_The town was in darkness when she arrived, the townsfolk having to be up with the dawn to see to their respective trades and feed their livestock. The only noise and light came from the tavern. As Isabelle trotted past, the door was wrenched open and two men were pitched face-first onto the churned mud and horse manure that passed for a road._

_"And don't you show your faces in here again without coin to pay for your ale!" shouted the indomitable old woman who ran the tavern, arms crossed over her ample bosom. The two men lurched to their feet, reeking of stale sweat, urine and spilled ale, and Isabelle clucked Falcon on before they could notice her. It was highly unlikely that anyone would trouble the earl's daughter and risk his wrath, but in their inebriated state they just might be stupid enough to think it worth a try. She reached the end of the town, and dismounted outside the largest house, which had been built to face south, with the woods behind. Brushing off her skirts, she walked Falcon around to the stable and passed the reins to the stable lad, Henry, handing him a penny with her finger pressed to her lips. Understanding her immediately, Henry gave her a wide grin and nodded, making the penny disappear as easily as a sorcerer._

_Isabelle picked up her skirts and made her way to the front door of the house, knocking firmly. After a moment, there was the sound of a wooden bar being lifted, and the door opened, spilling yellow candlelight out into the night and illuminating her pale skin._

_"Well, well," said a quiet, accented voice. "You shouldn't be here alone, my Lady. People will be concerned for your virtue."_

_"Oh, shut up and let me in," she snapped, and he stood aside, smirking as she brushed past him and took off her cloak. He put the wooden bar across the door once more, locking them in, and turned to face her with a tiny grin on his face. He was dressed in a blood-red tunic, woven with an intricate pattern of gold thread, and soft, brown leather trousers. She suspected that he had taken them in payment of a debt from one of the minor nobles; many of whom had difficulties in laying their hands on ready coin. He was not one to grant extensions or accept excuses, and she was often amazed that one of them hadn't simply had him killed for his insolence. The monks took a very dim view of his activities, calling them usury, but as he didn't seem to care what they thought and had never even been seen at the church, she supposed it didn't matter. She draped her cloak over the back of a chair and rubbed her hands together awkwardly as she paced the room. It was very clean, the floor swept and the fresh rushes laid down sending up a heady, green scent that mingled with the woodsmoke and the scent of _him_._

_"What is your pleasure, my Lady?" he asked quietly, and she gave him a stern look, that faltered as she saw the intensity of his gaze._

_"Father insists that I marry the Earl of Salisbury," she said reluctantly. He crossed to the table and poured two cups of wine, handing one to her. She took it gratefully._

_"And if you refuse?" he asked._

_"I did refuse!" she snapped. "I told him I'd rather go to a nunnery!"_

_"Hmm." He walked slowly around her, and she felt a shiver go through her as she felt his eyes on her. She gasped as he suddenly pressed himself against her back, his hand sweeping her hair to the side to expose her neck._

_"That would be – a tragic waste," he whispered, lowering his mouth to her. Isabelle moaned as he kissed her, his hand snaking around her waist._

_"He won't hear anything I say," she said breathlessly, her stomach fluttering and tightening as his lips trailed over her skin. "He wants an heir."_

_"Well, I may not have the bloodline," he murmured, biting into her neck and making her squirm against him. "But I certainly have the equipment."_

_She pulled away from him, eyes flashing, the wine slopping over the rim of her cup. "Rum, this isn't funny! He's going to marry me to that oaf of an earl and I'll never see you again!" Her lip trembled, and he sighed, taking her in his arms._

_"Don't cry, little Belle," he said gently, an endearment only he used. "You and I, we can never be apart. We are one, you know that." He pressed his lips to hers, and she melted against him, opening to his kiss, desperate for the taste of him. She could feel his hardness against her belly, and ground herself against him, wanting what he had so far refused to give her, making him groan into her mouth with desire. He pulled back reluctantly, breaking the kiss, and picked up his wine, taking a long drink. She drank her own, watching him over the rim of her cup. His tunic was open at the neck, displaying an intriguing triangle of smooth flesh at the top of his chest, and she felt the need for him rise in her. She wondered how long he would continue to deny her what she knew he wanted, what they both wanted. Her hands clenched, frustrated._

_"Kiss me again," she pouted, and he smirked._

_"Haven't you been kissed enough for one evening?"_

_"Not nearly enough," she declared, tossing her curls and fixing him with a stare. "I order you to kiss me!" Her tiny smile took the bite out of her words._

_He laughed. "I'm a freeman, my Lady, not one of your serfs," he said, deeply amused. "And no matter what your father may think, I run this town, not him, and not you."_

_Isabelle grunted, setting her half-empty cup of wine on the table. "My father thinks you're an arrogant upstart who's lucky to have been spared the fire for your heresy," she remarked, and he burst out laughing._

_"An accurate assessment," he said. He eyed her for a moment, then crossed to the stone fireplace and felt around the chimney breast, pulling out a loose stone. Reaching into the hole, he withdrew his hand, fist clenched._

_"I have a gift for you," he said, and smiled as her eyes brightened. He held up a heavy gold ring, set with a fiery red stone. Isabelle took it, exclaiming over its colour and weight. She slid it onto her third finger, holding up her hand to admire it._

_"What's the occasion?" she asked, and he smiled._

_"Consider it an engagement present," he offered, and she scowled, turning away from him._

_"I've already told you, I'm not…"_

_"I know," he interrupted calmly. "But perhaps you'd consider me as an alternative to holy orders."_

_She wilted a little, her expression sad. "My father would kill you."_

_He shrugged. "Perhaps. I'd die happy, at least."_

_She heaved a sigh then, and fell against his chest, letting him hold her. She sometimes found it hard to comprehend how much she loved this man, how she had loved him almost from the first. She remembered their meeting as clearly as if it were yesterday rather than four years previously. He had ridden into town ahead of a cart driven by an old man, who now lived at the edge of the woods and doled out herbal remedies and told fortunes when the monks weren't around. She had been visiting the baker's wife, who had recently given birth to twins and was in a bad way, and had moved to the side of the road to allow his horse and the cart to pass, looking curiously into the back of the cart, where three tall rounded shapes were draped in sacking. She had glanced up at the rider, a man in his middle years with brown hair falling almost to his shoulders, dressed finely in good linen and a thick wool cloak. Her mouth suddenly falling open, she had felt a strange jolt in the depths of her belly as his deep brown eyes held hers for a moment. She had blushed, a small, skinny girl of fourteen with unruly dark hair and large blue eyes. She knew she looked a little wild, despite her fine blue dress, but she had not been able to take her eyes off him. He had stopped his horse, leaning on its withers as he turned to her, and had looked down at her with a strange, slanting grin and said: "Well, my beauty. Here we are again."_

_She had visited him often, borrowing from his collection of books, which was larger than any she had seen in the town. Surely only the monks had more, not that a woman would be given access to the monastery library. They had discussed the books, arguing over them, over politics and religion, over the Crusades and methods of healing and what he called the ridiculous notions of the nobility, and she had occasionally lost her temper with him and stormed out. But she always went back. It had only been a few weeks before she realised that she was in love with him, but she had not acted on her feelings. He waited until she turned seventeen before he admitted his love for her and kissed her as though she were air without which he couldn't breathe. She had returned to the castle feeling as though she was walking in the clouds._

_The old man with the cart sometimes joined them for discussions of what had been read, or to teach Isabelle about healing plants. She didn't know his true name, but Rum always called him Doc, therefore so did she. Isabelle loved him too, in a different way; he was like the father she had always wanted, gentle and kind and clever, indulgent of her desire for knowledge and full of praise for her accomplishments. The objects in the carts had turned out to be things called spinning wheels, a new invention from the East, and far more productive than the spindle and distaff used by everyone she knew who span. Rum had set himself up as a spinner, had quickly obtained two apprentices and produced more yarn, and of a finer quality, than the other spinners in the town combined. He was admitted to the merchants' guild, in time becoming alderman, although she imagined this was due to his craftiness and manipulation rather than his popularity, which was somewhat lacking in anyone that wasn't her. She spent four happy years improving her knowledge and engaging in arguments with her two new friends, until her father returned from the wars in the Holy Land and decided it was time for her to wed._

_"You've been silent for some time," said Rum gently, stroking her hair. "Can I take that to mean you'll think about it?"_

_She let out a soft, slightly tearful chuckle, and pushed back from him._

_"You really wish to marry me?" she asked, and he pulled a wry face._

_"Well, I don't need a priest to tell me that you're mine, but I'm informed that the town would take a dim view of us living together without some sort of blessing," he said. "Not to mention your father would have my balls for earrings."_

_"He'll do that whether we marry or not," said Isabelle despondently._

_"Always so positive," he teased. "That's one of the things I love about you."_

_"Could we go away?" she asked suddenly. "Far away, where no one knows us?"_

_"Perhaps," he allowed. "We'll go where we're needed."_

_She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. "Then I'll marry you," she said decidedly. A warm smile spreading across his face, he cupped her cheeks with his hands and kissed her about as thoroughly as she'd ever been kissed. His hands stroked down her body to her waist as her arms slid around him, then moved up her sides, his thumbs caressing the undersides of her breasts through the dress. Her belly tightened painfully as she felt desire rising in her, and she clung to him, realising that marriage would also mean they would finally be joined as one. It could not come soon enough, as far as she was concerned. She knew what would happen on her wedding night; women in the castle had been surprisingly frank with her about that aspect of marriage, but she didn't fear him. She knew he would treat her with care and not hurt her any more than was necessary. And she wanted him, wanted him with a fiery passion that her parents wouldn't even suspect lay within her. When he pulled away and placed a soft kiss to her forehead, she was breathless and trembling, her body humming with anticipation and need. He rested his brow against hers, the coolness of his breath on her face._

_"I must take you to Doc," he said gently. "Before we wed, there are things you must know. If you still wish to marry me once I tell you, then we shall be wed tomorrow evening. Go home, pack some clothes, and meet me at his cottage in the morning."_

_"I will," she whispered, and he kissed her again._

* * *

Belle's eyes flicked open in the darkness of the room. For a moment she was disorientated, but then she recalled that she was at the cabin. She mulled over the dream she had had. It had been so vivid; she could smell the scents of the town and of his house. She had felt his hands on her and the scrape of his stubble as he kissed her. She could still feel the warm coil of want in her abdomen, and smiled to herself. She turned over, reaching out, but her hand encountered cold sheets. He was not there. Puzzled, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and listened. She could hear nothing, so she slipped out of bed, wrapping a blanket around herself, and walked quietly through to the lounge. She saw him, with his back to her, his head bent over something and his shoulders shaking slightly.

"Marcus?" she said sleepily, and he jerked, sitting upwards, rubbing his hands over his face. She padded around the side of the couch to face him, and he gave her a somewhat wobbly smile. He looked drawn, haggard, and she frowned slightly.

"Is something wrong?"

"Belle," he said quietly, not answering her. "Couldn't you sleep?"

"I was having really vivid dreams," she admitted. "You weren't there when I woke, so I thought I'd make some tea."

"Yes, I'd like some."

She looked curiously at what he held in his hands. "Oh! You're reading Grandma's book! What do you think? Isn't it interesting?"

"Indeed." He snapped the book shut and stood, not looking at her. "Don't trouble yourself. I'll make the tea."

Surprised, brow wrinkling, she acquiesced, and he strode into the kitchenette to put the kettle on.

"Go back to bed," he called. "I'll bring the tea through."

She hesitated, watching him with a slight frown on her face, but nodded and traipsed back through to the bedroom. He smiled and shook his head. She knew something was wrong. How he'd missed that, her perception, her understanding. Her love. He crossed to the couch, scooping up the book as he waited for the kettle to boil. It hurt, it hurt so much, but he had to know.

_'Papa has told me they are sending for a doctor. I know the only doctor I want to see will be with __him__, but there is no point in telling Papa this. I am now certain he thinks me mad; there can be no reason other than this for him sending for this doctor. I fear that they will lock me away, in an asylum. Is this not what happens to young ladies that speak of past lives and lost loves that no other has seen? I fear that I will not survive such an incarceration long. And yet, perhaps this is a good thing. Perhaps it is meant to be. He is always at least twice my age, perhaps he has already gone before me, and now waits for me to join him. I shall accept my fate, to whatever end. I know he thinks me brave, but I believe I must be the world's greatest coward. I cannot be without him, and yet I cannot make myself join him. Instead I wait for others to decide my fate. I was not always thus, I know. There is something missing. Some fire, some light, some inner strength, that once I had when I had him. Heaven help me find it again, or I am truly lost.'_

Gold closed the book, unable to continue. Part of him, a cruel, masochistic part, wanted to, but he recalled that he had to take Belle tea and look reasonably normal doing it. Dashing the tears from his eyes, he rubbed his hands over his face and exhaled loudly into his palms, trying to calm himself. Taking a deep breath and straightening up, he let the air whistle out through his teeth and looked up at the ceiling. Belle was what mattered. He could do nothing for Elizabeth. He had failed Isabelle. He could not fail Belle. He _would_ not fail Belle. Nodding to himself determinedly, he poured water into the teapot, arranged cups, milk and sugar on a tray, and carried it through to the bedroom under one arm. He would let Belle tell him the rest of Elizabeth's story, if she chose to. A coward's way out, but then he'd never pretended to be anything else.

* * *

**A/N: Writing this made me sad :( **

**I take it you all know what's going on with Gold and Belle now. A couple of you guessed it before this chapter, but hopefully it's now clear. There's still lots of other stuff to be explained though. **

**Next time: Gold and Mr King have a conversation.**


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